#content warning: implied/referenced suicide

[futuremrscameron]

❀˖°bahamian!reader❀˖°

content warnings: suicidal ideation, (accidental) shooting, symptoms of mental illness, hints of dom/sub dynamic, referenced sexual content, implied/referenced violence, major spoilers for outer banks s1-3, hints of rafebarryoc

bahamian!reader and rafe met in the bahamas. after shooting sarah and behaving his worries dismissed by ward, rafe found himself standing at the shoreline contemplating ending it all when a voice called out to him. he thought she was an angel at first but no angel would call him "bey"

he whips his head around to find the voice. it’s an angel?

"what the hell were you doing?" her thick accent catches him off guard. he rationalizes it though, angels are theoretically from all over and he is in bahamas, so if he died there then that would make sense

“ay? ya hear me man?”

he looks around for anyone else and points at himself?

“ya see anyone else in the water?”

he shakes his head. she chuckles and it’s the prettiest sound he’s ever heard.

“are you an angel?”

she smirks, “angel? never heard that one before. no man, i’m just a gal.” she chuckles as she makes her way down the sandhill.

“am i dead?”

she frowns as she closes the distance between them. “if i ain’t an angel how are you dead?”

he blushes, embarrassed at the stupid thought but intrigued by the woman.

“it’s okay. so?”

“so?”

“wanna get out of the water?”

oh right. he is in the water. he didn’t get too far before she came, the waves come up to his hips.

“sure.” he pushes past the current to reach the beauty on land.

three hours later

“your ole’man sounds like shit.”

“yeah.”

“well.”

“well?”

“what ya gon’ do?”

“i don’t know.”

“well, how long you here for?”

he squints, “why?”

she shrugs, looking down at their hands side by side, “can help ya figure it out. and,” she connects their fingers and meets his eyes. “you’re cute.” she smiles.

bahamian!reader is the oldest of five siblings so she can somewhat relate to rafe’s struggles

bahamian!reader who owns a bar that sits on a dock near the same beach she met rafe at

bahamian!reader and rafe long distance dating after she refuses to go back to obx with him.

“what do you mean you can’t?”

“what part of i cant is confusin’?” she rolls her eyes, she loves the boy but his emotional maturity and poor communication skills leaves much to be desired.

“i got family. little ones who rely on me.”

“i could take care of you.”

“i know and i love that about you but… i gatte do this on my own.”

he gets out because he understands what it’s like to want to prove yourself and be the hero/savior.

“i’ll call you every day ey?”

he nods. that won’t do. she softly but firmly grips his chin, making him meet her eyes. “ah, use your words.”

he lets out a soft, “okay.”

a grin blooms on her face, “good boy.”

bahamian!reader who the pogues (mostly jj) do not believe exists. rafe shows her off to to kelce and topper at the country club and jj sees her over his shoulder while working

“no way she’s real.” rafe doesn’t look back as he flicks off the boy.

“fuck off pogue.”

jj smirks, knowing he got under the kook king’s skin with his comment. he leans against the wall behind them. “next thing you know you’re gonna tell me she’s from canada.”

rafe nearly knocks the table over as he bolts up from his chair. he reaches the blonde boy in two strides, holding his collar in his hands. “you wanna keep this job and your teeth i suggest you mind your business and get our fucking order down.

bahamian!reader who answers rafe’s calls all the time no matter what she’s doing

“how could she do this? i mean we’re her family!” rafe paces back and forth in his room as he rants into his phone.

she holds her flip phone between her neck and ear while she washes the remaining dishes from the last couple of guests. “rafe, you tried to kill her.”

“oh so you’re on her side.”

she slams her fist down against the counter, “don’t start rafe. i’m not in the mood ey?”

bahamian!reader who meets up with rafe in guadeloupe. she missed rafe so when he told her about ward’s plan to move after acquiring the cross she knew it was the perfect opportunity

she wanted to surprise him, it’s why she didn’t tell him about her plan to hop on a plane and meet him in guadeloupe. it was hard to act like she was too busy to facetime but the look on his face when she surprised him at his home was worth it.

“ray!” he turns around at the familiar melodic voice and is tackled with a hug.

he looks up at the woman hovering above him, grinning down at him like he’s hung the stars in the sky. his chest feels warm, it’s a good feeling, he never wants to let her go.

“you’re here.” he cradles her face in his hand, he pulls back like he’s been burned when he makes contact with flesh.

she frowns, “wouldn’t pass up the chance to see you bey! not when you’re so close.”

she closes the distance with a kiss, he’s surprised at first but reciprocates almost immediately. he wraps his arms around her waist as she moans into the kiss.

“rafe!?”

the couple parts at rose’s interruption. she looks at rafe, at the mystery girl, and back at rafe. “who’s this?”

rafe sighs, “we’ve got a lot to discuss.”

bahamian!reader and rafe who spend all their time in guadeloupe in bed

she traces circles on rafe’s chest as the overhead fan does its best to cool the couple down. it’s no use, they’re sweat like pigs in a blanket. from their strenuous exercise. a very expensive blanket. she breaks the silence first, “ya know some fresh air wouldn’t kill ya.”

rafe looks down at her with a raised brow, “yeah?”

she pouts, “you don’t agree.”

she tries to hide it but he sees her. he immediately tries to soften the blow, “i didn’t say that, i just… we’ve only got so much time together.”

“yeah and i don’t wanna spend it all inside.”

he smirks at her soft tone and pouting, its not often he gets to see the usually bold woman like this. “you weren’t complaining thirty minutes ago.”

“mmhm you just want me to yourself.” she stretches her arms above her head, the sheets fall showing off her figure.

rafe grips her thigh, “can you blame me?”

she throws her legs over his hips and smiles down at him, “no.”

the pair spend the rest of the day inside.

bahamian!reader who is very strict and it’s her coworkers and only soft with her

“rafe i told you not to call me when i’m working.”

“i miss you.”

she instantly melts upon hearing the desperation in his voice, “awww i miss you too. how’s my baby doing?”

bar patrons and employees alike stare in shock and confusion as they watch her speak softly to someone other than her siblings. they all agree to find out who this mystery man is and why he has this affect on her.

bahamian!reader who gets along well with barry despite rafe trying to keep the two apart because they represent conflicting parts of his life (he’s jealous)

“barry!” she all but hops out the passenger seat as the car comes to a stop in front of barry’s trailer.

“there’s my girl.” she runs to the man and throws her arms around him. he spins her around, once, twice. too many times for rafe’s liking. she giggles.

“yo keep your hands where i can see them.” the pair turn to face rafe who slams the car door shut behind him.

“me or barry?”

“yes.”

barry rolls his eyes and looks down at the woman in his arms, “he in a mood?”

“ey, its awful, cried all the way here.”

barry smirks, “our boy don’t know how to act.” she shakes her head in faux disappointment, “at all at all.”

“i can hear you!”

bahamian!reader splits her time equally between the bahamas and obx

“i can’t believe you’re leaving me.” rafe sits on his bed watching her pack her suitcase.

she rolls her eyes, “hey! none of that ya hear. you had me for the summer now i got to go back to the chirren.”

he wraps his arms around her slowly kissing her neck, erasing the little sense she has left. “the oldest is sixteen baby, they can look after themselves for a little longer.”

“rafe.” she groans.

the kisses grow more frequent and feverish, “come on. one more week.”

she knows she shouldn’t but he’s so persuasive. she looks back at him, who can say no to those baby blue eyes.

“fine.”

he grins and kisses her face, she giggles at the feverish but silly flurry of kisses.

bahamian!reader says “i love you” first which shocks herself and rafe

bahamian!reader who really likes rafe but refuses to go any further until she gains the approval of her siblings

rafe is not the gretest with kids. he couldn’t even watch his seven year old sister at ten because he was “untrustworthy” and “immature” (that part never made sense to him he was ten for fuck sake). he knew he wasn’t number one on the ‘trustworthy adult to watch kids’ list, its why he knew something was up when rose left wheelie in his care.

all that to say he was sure he was gonna fuck up the first meeting he had with her siblings. “what if they hate me?” he looks at his reflection.

she looks up from her magazine, “they won’t.”

rafe nods but still doesn’t meet her eyes. he fiddles with the family ring before asking, “what if they do?”

she manages to catch his eyes this time, her cold smile sends shivers down his spine. “then i’ll dump you.”

he frowns, “not funny.”

she shrugs, “not jokin’.”

“great motivation. seriously you should do ted talks.” she leans up and kisses his forehead, “you’ll do great.”

he does great. especially after he realizes that their deep questions and calculating stares are there to made sure he doesn’t hurt their sister. he can respect that. he would do the same.

bahamian!reader who wants to have a family with rafe and is ecstatic when she sees those two pink lines

[infinitatis-ink]

charade

Yandere!Gojo x Reader - Ao3 Link

Summary: Gojo likes to pretend about a lot of things. 

One, that his jokes are funny. Two, that he’s perfectly fine and doesn’t need help. Three, that you fell in love and started dating him out of your own free will.  

The chain around your ankle would beg to differ. 

Content Warnings: Yandere Gojo, implied kidnapping, captivity, Reader briefly having suicidal thoughts/ideation, Reader fantasizing about murder, nonconsensual kissing, referenced rape/noncon.

MDNI. MINORS AND BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

Gojo likes to pretend about a lot of things. 

One, that his jokes are funny. Two, that he’s perfectly fine and doesn’t need help. Three, that you fell in love and started dating him out of your own free will.  

The chain around your ankle would beg to differ. 

“Ah, I’m finally home!” Gojo lets out an exaggerated sigh and flops onto your chest, pushing you back onto the plush bed and knocking the book you’d been reading onto the floor. “The mission was a pain in the ass.”

Several months of living with Gojo have taught you that when he wants something from you, he simply expects it to happen. Otherwise, his tantrums and passive aggressive silent treatments are too much of a headache to deal with. You automatically run a hand through his hair, gently massaging the spots you know he’s weak to as he makes a contented noise.  

“A whole week without your touch was pure torture, you know,” he murmurs, trailing his hands down your hips. 

It’d been torture for you too, just not in the way Gojo wants it to be. The only bright side was that he’d gotten better about leaving you well-supplied before going on long missions, ever since you’d nearly starved to death when his flight had been delayed (a shame he came back in time, you were so close to being free from him). Sure, he’d made sure the fridge was stocked with your favourite foods and let you use his movie collection and the balcony (the chain’s sadly not long enough to let you jump off it), but it means nothing when he’s insistent on keeping you in his bedroom the whole time he’s gone. Gojo had told you once that you'd get access to the rest of the penthouse while he's away on long term missions after you'd earned that privilege.

You doubt he had any intention of keeping that promise.

How cruelly ironic. The only time you get some freedom away from Gojo’s suffocating “love” and you can’t even enjoy it to the fullest. You’d gotten so bored by the last week that you’d started staring at the tiles on the bathroom floor, trying to make shapes out of the greyish marble veins. Had he been gone for any longer, you think, you might’ve even been glad to see him again.   

You suddenly feel his lips brush over the crook of your neck and look down to see Gojo staring up at you expectantly with a pouty expression, his cheeks comically puffed out. In another universe, you might’ve found it cute. But all you can feel now is the urge to wrap your hands around his throat.   

“Well?” He playfully nips the skin under your collarbone, and you hate the jolt of electricity it sends to your core. “Did you miss me?”

You sigh. As tempting as it’d be to break his fingers so he'd learn to keep his hands to himself, you know he’d just find it hot. Goddamn weirdo.

“It was torture for me too,” you finally say. It’s not a complete lie, so it should satisfy him for the time being. Anything to stop his hands from wandering all over your body, as though you’re an instrument he just has to fine tune to his liking. 

Gojo stares at you for longer than you’d like, before he gives you a lazy smile. 

“Is that so?” he asks, toying with the hem of your shirt. “Then I guess you'd know I’ve been wanting to do this the moment I came home.” 

The air's knocked from your lungs as Gojo suddenly slams his lips against yours. You freeze for a split second, still trying to process what just happened, a noise of protest dying in your throat. He takes the chance to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue between your parted lips to taste all of you. You’ve learned that Gojo’s kisses are greedy, suffocating things, filled with a need to savor you as though you’ll slip out of his arms and vanish at any second. You faintly feel him grind against your thigh with a groan, something hard and blunt poking at you through his pants.

A knot forms in your stomach, right above the heat that’s starting to pool into your core. You know you should count your blessings. Be glad Gojo’s bothered with foreplay this time, instead of coming home and immediately taking you on the nearest flat surface. But no matter how considerate or gentle he might be towards you as he violates you, it makes you want to crawl out of your own skin afterwards. 

Maybe there is some greater being or force in the universe after all, because Gojo mercifully pulls away with a satisfied look on his face. You waste no time scrambling to sit up, trying to get as much distance as you could away from him. No luck; Gojo immediately grabs your wrist and pulls you against him.

“W-what the—why—” you splutter. Heat prickles against your scalp and face as you glare at him. 

“It’s alright if you're still shy about making out, baby,” Gojo coos. He taps your nose and grins, as though you’re just embarrassed and not itching to punch him. “Since we haven’t been together for that long. But you can just let me know, yeah?”

Red hot anger bubbles up in you, and you wonder what Gojo would look like when you crush his throat beneath your heel. 

“Go fuck yourself,” you snarl. 

“That’s your job, sweetheart,” Gojo leans in, until you can feel his teeth against your skin, lips curling up into a smirk. “Hate me all you want; I have enough love for the both of us.”   

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

LINK LIMIT HAS BEEN REACHED

Jan 19th

~*~

1. hi!! itmf a fic where

a) wen wei wuxian! or even partially wen friendly fics i suppose? i've read most stuff tagged under wen wei wuxian but feel free to recommend if u have one you really like even if it has that tag!

b) modern/college aus with a similar vibe to Red Chrysanthemums for Wei Ying/A Soft Storm by AvoOwO (strongly recommend!!). doesn't have to have such dark themes necessarily but the relationship between wwx and jc & others. Lan Zhan vs the Jiang Siblings series by phnelt is another (more lighthearted) example of what i mean! sorry ik it's vague.

c) a social media fic! preferably with the whole twitter/other social media set ups and all that fun stuff like Second Wind: An Idol Survival Show by moeblobmegane

tysm for all u do u guys are amazing!!!

1A)

Scars of Lightning by The_peregrine_falcon (T, 6k, YZY & WWX, WWX & WRH, WangXian, YZY’s A+ Parenting, Canon Divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Wen WWX, zidian, YZY is a bitch, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Major Character Injury, Heavy Angst, Lotus Pier, Nightless City, Young WWX, Muteness, Hurt kind of comfort)

Loneliness Knows My Name by Jaywalker_Holmes, Treef (T, 208k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Eventual Happy Ending, Unreliable Narrator, Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, mutual idiots)

Heliocentric by Coolio101 (T, 8k, WangXian, in which WWX is born as part of the Wen Sect, Mutual Pining, LWJ & JC are friends....kind of, Wen Sect WWX, Fix-It, LWJ has zero chill and is always 2 sec away from throwing hands, but that's basically canon, also WRH is still an asshole, so if you were expecting redemption!fic this might not be for you, Canon Divergence)

Sunset, Sunrise by Ariana Deralte (ArianaDeralte) (T, 59k, WWX & WRH, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Crack, Temporary Character Death, sorry I killed a-Yuan for a few paragraphs before the time travel, WWX is a Wen, Genius WWX, WRH gets to rewatch the series as a treat, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, in this house we acknowledge that all the sects have flaws, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, WWX Has ADHD, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Autistic LWJ, Loss of Limbs)

All Things Belong by kuroi_atropos (M, 93k, WRH & WWX, WangXian, WWX is a Wēn, Abuse, Whipping, Manipulations, Warning: WRH, Smart WWX, Possessive Behavior, Warning: JGS, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Rape/Non-con, Society Level Victim Blaming, Victim Blaming)

1C)

Grandmaster of Meme-onic Cultivation by Hades_the_Blingking (T, 75k, multiple ships, Chatlogs, chatfic, Texting, Comedy, Canon Compliant, Crack, Memes, Humour, JGY is best bitch, i am afraid of when LXC finally snaps, XY is a highly cursed person, NHS is still mvp tbh, chatroom fic, Polyamory, Lots of it, Not Everyone Dies, Additional: please do not eat or drink reading this enough people have choked x-x)

call me, beep me by myung (T, 39k, WangXian, MM/WQ, JC/WN, JYL/JZX, Social Media, Modern, Actors, Celebrity, Chatting & Messaging)

cookin' up a storm, piece of cake by livinginaworldofnoise (G, 9k, WangXian, Modern, Social Media, Baking, the dumbest comments u have ever seen, WWX being a troll for nearly 10k words, LWJ suffering the most that any recipe blogger has ever suffered, Baker LWJ, WWX is a Little Shit, Crack, content warning for absolute unhinged nonsense, told in the form of recipe comments and emails, Epistolary, Unconventional Format)

life, drama and action by Akai__hana (G, 13k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, Modern, Actors, singer LWJ, actor WWX, Social Media, Fluff and Humor, Established Relationship, Crack)

r/relationships by vespertineflora (T, 8k, WangXian, Modern AU, Social Media, Viral Reddit Post, Pining, Crushes, Friends to Lovers, Awkward Flirting, Romantic Gestures, Romantic Comedy, Love Confessions, Kissing, Happy Ending, r/relationships [podfic] by someplacelikebolivia)

🔒 人過留名 | Reputation by dragongirlG, PandaReads (DrPanda99) (T, 5k, JL & LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, JL & WWX, Social Media, Gusu Lan Juniors Dynamics, Humor, Chinese diaspora, Secret Identity, College/University, Modern Setting, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 30-45 Minutes, Mandarin speaking reader, Fic & Podfic)

~*~

2. any fics with the housewife and provider husband dynamic? (either of them could be the househusband, idrc i just want this dynamic) @ashxi-wx

crimson blue by cherrywhiskey (E, 138k, WangXian, Modern AU, Arranged Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending, Marriage of Convenience, genius WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Supportive LQR, Bottom LWJ, Eventual mpreg, Protective WWX, BAMF WWX, caring LWJ, Soap Opera, with plenty of telenovela tropes, like scheming in-laws, sizzling drama, Angst, Romance, AND SO MUCH LOVE & DEVOTION, Power Couple Wangxian, they're smitten with each other, WWX × LQR bonding, soft LWJ, but he's also got a temper, WWXs debt & duty factor is heavily focused, it's a bit whumpy initially, but Very Very Happy ending, let me show you what WWX's love looks like)

the end of And They Have Escaped The Weight of Darkness by cosmicmilktea (T, 10k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Screw the Cultivation world tbh, The Lan precepts deserves better, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Social justice boyfriends wangxian, Happy Ending) link in #15

~*~

3. Hello🥰 I was wondering if you had some kind of Post-Canon fanfics comp? Or Post-Canon fanfics recs? I looked through your fic comps list but, if it does exist, I couldn’t find it. If it doesn’t exist, could I ask for you fav post canon fanfics for the next itmf? Happy endings please!!! And the cutest wangxian the better!

Thank you luv, you’re doing gods work!

Bitter Plants Bearing Sweet Fruit by Kryal (M, 83k, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, canon-typical horror elements, Worldbuilding, Desert, Misuse of Historic Setting, Original Character Death(s), Case Fic, aftermath of canon, ridiculously long author notes, Established Relationship, Nothing Explicit But Shameless Innuendo)

a safe pair of hands by occultings (microcomets) (E, 11k, WangXian, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Body Worship, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Sharing a Bed, Getting Together, First Time, Curses, Intimacy, Touch-Starved LWJ)

And Yet Here You Are by cosmicmilktea (T, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Domestic Fluff, Cloud Recesses, settling down, Separation Anxiety, Teacher WWX, very light angst, Chief Cultivator LWJ)

call me home and I’ll build you a throne by anaphoricae (E, 51k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Cloud Recesses, Getting Together, Developing Relationship, Self-Indulgent, Gusu Lan Juniors Dynamics, Touch-Starved, Non-Sexual Intimacy… and then Sexual Intimacy, Lán Juniors Gossiping about Wangxian, as a treat, Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Farmer WWX, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Mutual Pining, Communication, Quietly Falling Into a Married Life, Light Angst, Wholesome, POV LWJ, POV WWX, LWJ in braids agenda, Sharing a Bed, WWX’s Birthday, Semi-Public Sex, Cold Springs, Inventor WWX, Jealous WWX)

How to Keep Your Diplomatic Asset Close (and Your Wei Ying Closer) by His Excellency by misscam (M, 4k, WangXian, Getting Together, Fluff, Smut, Humor, CQL!verse, some inspiration from the novel)

hunters seeking solid ground by Attila (E, 23k, wangxian, Canon Compliant, discussion of canon character death, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, bed sharing, Getting Together, Yearning, Literal Sleeping Together, Really Excessive Amounts of Hurt/Comfort,[Podfic of] hunters seeking solid ground by exmanhater, hunters seeking solid ground by Attila [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea))

If It’s You by etymologyplayground (T, 1k, WangXian, Fluff, Reunions, Getting Together, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, Cuddling & Snuggling, Post-Canon, Sexual Tension)

I’m Going Out (Gonna Make A Name For Me And You) by cosmicmilktea (T, 16k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Power couple Wangxian for social change is my kink, People being nice to WWX is my kink, LWJ and I have that in common, Mentor WWX, intersect relations, cultivation sects, Slow Burn, Like seriously it's very slow, Sickness)

Linger in the Sun by etymologyplayground (T, 39k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Case Fic, Intimacy, Curses, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together, Romance, Sexual Tension, Scent Kink, WWX Loves To Teach, wangxian are married, Fluff, nonsexual intimacy, Scars, Sharing a Bed, Nonverbal Communication, this is HEAVY on the symbolism, Translation in Russian)

Nice work if you can get it by deliciousblizzardshark (M, 11k, WangXian, Protective LWJ, Genius WWX, Post-Canon, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, the make people respect wwx agenda, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Soft WangXian, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, a very very small amount of smut, also a possessed squirrel)

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie (E, 68k, WangXian, Case Fic, Blood and Injury, Demons, Body Horror, Mystery, The intrinsic horniness of wound tending, Yearning 2: The Electric Boogaloo, [Podfic] 爱不释手; never let me go by argentumlupine, 爱不释手; never let me go [podfic] by esbielle)

You’d Break Your Heart to Make It Bigger by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 32k, WangXian, soulbonding, First Time, Case Fic if You Squint, Fools in Love, soul boning, soft fools in love, Pining while fucking)

Wearing Down Every Bone by CSHfic, VSfic (E, 30k, WangXian, Groundhog Day, Time Loop, Temporary Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Case Fic, Curses, Pining, Getting Together, Time Travel, Night Hunts, Hurt wwx, Mystery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Use Your Words, Mutual Pining, Depression and Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, gratuitous use of empathy)

build me no shrines by occultings (microcomets) (M, 54k, WangXian, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, First Time, Getting Together, Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Hair Washing, Sentient Burial Mounds, Case Fic, Post-Canon, CQL Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Light Angst, Flashbacks, mild body horror, foot   washing, Happy Ending, Non-Sexual Intimacy, …then sexual intimacy, [Podfic] build me no shrines by flamingwell)

~*~

4. Do you have any Wangxian fics that discuss classism? Like any that are about/mention how often Wei Wuxian is treated because he's the 'son of a servant'.

🔒 Fine Men of High Rank by Deastar (E, 3k, WangXian, Xuanwu of Slaughter Cave, Class Issues, Cuddling, Hurt/Comfort)

made for each other by KouriArashi (T, 118k, JYL/NMJ, WangXian, JC/WQ, LXC/JGY, LXC & NMJ, NMJ & NHS, JC & JYL & WWX, Canon Divergence, Romance, Developing Relationship, Slow Build, Matchmaking, Mutual Pining, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Sibling Bonding, Class Issues, first half is fluffy but then, Sunshot Campaign, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective Boyfriends, Happy Ending, Not Everyone Dies)

Chronicles of Sect Leader Wei Wuxian by Muggle_Diary (E, 115k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, JFM/YZY, CSSR/WCZ, MM/LXC, NMJ/QS, WQ/OC, OFC / OFC, JC / OFC, Sect Leader WWX, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Different First Meeting, Canon Divergence, Minor Character Death, First Time, First Kiss, Anal Sex, Sex Toys, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Rough Sex, Sexual Assault, Child Abuse, Child Death, War Hero WWX, Sunshot Campaign, No Golden Core Transfer, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, Cultivation Sect Politics, Original Character(s), Wen Remnants Live, Abusive YZY, Abusive Jiang Family, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, JC Bashing, YZY Bashing, JFM Bashing, Yunmeng Jiang Sect Bashing, JYL & JZX Live, Jiang Family Bashing)

🔒 in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, Cloud Recesses, LWJ & NHS Friendship, Developing Relationship, POV LWJ, Minor Injuries, Autistic LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aka the Madam Yu warning, Genius WWX, Light Angst And Hurt/Comfort, WWX Protection Squad, Gusu Lan Sect, Slow Burn, Protective LWJ, LWJ-centric)

~*~

5. Do you have any fics where Wei Wuxian is the drunk one? There are so many confessions where Lan Wangji is drunk, but I'm curious if there are any where Wei Wuxian is the one drunk.

~*~

6. Hello!! for the next ITMF, are there any modern au fics where the cultivation world is a secret? sort of like in Lan Sizhui and the Whispers of the Lost by Vulpeculate

~*~

7. Hello! Happy 2025! I'm here for the next In the mood for! I'm craving a really angsty scene of the twin jades... I just really need Lan Zhan laying it out on Lan Xichen after the truth is out, because I think Lan Xichen is more focused on the fact that he killed JGY and helped killing NMJ and not of the big part he played on everything that went on with WWX and the Wens and also how he betrayed LWJ. @lostandmessedup

~*~

8. Itmf fics that explore the time when meng Yao hid lan xichen after he escaped cloud recesses. It feels like there should be more great fics about this but I haven’t found them. Especially for JGY/LXC falling in love and JGY making different choices!

walk away from the sun by KouriArashi (M, 107k, LXC/JGY, LXC & LWJ, WangXian, LWJ & JGY, LXC & NMJ, Canon Divergence, Angst, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Politics, supportive brothers, supportive husbands, Canon-Typical Violence, Lan Family Feels, Everybody Lives, Eventual Happy Ending)

and he sang about the stars by hauntme_then (M, 29k, WangXian, Brotherhood, Growing Up Together, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Canonical Character Death) The MY hiding LZC part is part of a more in depth LZC POV fic, but it is a poignant and detailed part. I should also warn that the fic is dark and will not hit the last part of your request about different choices. But the LZC POV is very good and exploratory.

~*~

9. Heyo are there any fics set in the untamed universe where Wei Wuxian comes back to lan when and the juniors and its just him and Lan Zhan having so much sexual and romantic tension? Like you could cut it with a twig, like super thick in the air and the juniors are just tired of it, so they decided to do something about it or Wangxian figure it out on their own? Please let me know, and I hope you have a nice day or night😁 @yasssbassss

A Dramatic Reading by pupeez4eva (Not Rated, 5k, WangXian, Humor, Post-Canon, Public Confessions, oblivious wangxian, The Juniors accidentally write Wangxian fanfiction on a cursed scroll, Everyone suffers the consquences, Getting Together)

Far Away You Are by cqlorphan (E, 17k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Misunderstandings, cleared up by juniors ensemble, Explicit Consent, Bottom LWJ. Top WWX, but i’m sure they switch about it, Multiple Orgasms, Fluff and Smut, with a little angst - as a treat)

Linger in the Sun by etymologyplayground (T, 39k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Case Fic, Intimacy, Curses, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together, Romance, Sexual Tension, Scent Kink, WWX Loves To Teach, wangxian are married, Fluff, nonsexual intimacy, Scars, Sharing a Bed, Nonverbal Communication, this is HEAVY on the symbolism, Translation in Russian) link in #3

tell some storm by qurbat (G, 31k, wangxian, JC & WWX, LSZ & WWX, NHS & WWX, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, liberal amounts of outsider POV, the legend of wangxian, how to create a romance epic for dummies)

🔒 The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (T, 19k, WangXian, In-Universe RPF, Romance Novel, LJY’s sense of justice, OYZZ’s sense of romance, Featuring a surprise appearance by WWX’s oft-absent sense of shame, Look the ducklings just want their sort-of dads to be happy okay?, And it’s not like WWX or LWJ are doing a good job of ensuring their own happiness, LJY rejects canon reality and substitutes his own, highly relatable actually, Post-Canon Fix-It, primarily drama-canon with cameos from novel-canon, The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea))

~*~

10. Hello! I'm itmf any A) Wangxian fics that are funny, and b) good uncle lqr fics in post canon!

10A)

Once upon a moonlit night, in Gusu by naqaashi (E, 1k, WangXian, Fluff and Crack, Humor, Suffering LQR, LQR is So Done, JC is So Done, Outdoor Sex, Married WangXian, Established Relationship, Shameless Smut, Shameless WangXian, Post-Canon, LQR Metaphorically Qi-Deviates, Poor LQR, Gremlin WWX, Petty LWJ, WangXian Being Cringe, Public Display of Affection, Accidental Voyeurism) Just read this one last night and it was very funny, especially the second half. #prayforLQR

Important Distinctions by nagi_blue (T, 5k, Gen, Fluff and Crack, [Podfic] Important Distinctions by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona)

Transcend by covalentbonds (Not Rated, 7k, WIP, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff and Humor, Smut, YLLZ WWX is prettiest fight me)

🔒 and in the spring i shed my skin by wvlfqveen (T, 11k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Professors, Shapeshifter LWJ, Not Quite Necromancer WWX, Mutual Pining, WWX being an oblivious idiot, Fluff, Love Confessions, yunmeng trio, Family Feels, get JC therapy 2020, Kissing)

are you my wisdom tooth? because i'd like to take you out by yellowcarnations (G, 3k, WangXian, Modern, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, this is like drunk LWJ but leveled up to the max, its not ooc if u blame it on the anaesthesia)

The Late Great Custody Debate by stiltonbasket (G, 9k, WangXian, LXC/NMJ, JYL/JZX, JYL & WWX & JC, Modern, Domestic Fluff, baby a-yuan, Single Parent WWX, LWJ is a confused rabbit owner, nielan are married, nhs is: xoxo gossip girl, Custody Arrangements, engagement fluff, Confused WWX, WWX voice: if i'm the one with the kid why are you suing ME for child support?, LWJ kills his own love life in the worst way, Happy Ending)

The Bunnies and The Roomba: A Love Story by Nikki373 (T, 6k, WangXian, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Siblings, Siblings Try and Are Trying, Modern, College/University, ,It's kinda more grad school adjacent, 1 if by phone; 2 if by text; 3 if by mouth, Kisses, Romance, Falling In Love, LXC is the eternal captain of the good ship Wangxian)

Covered in Bees by ScarlettStorm (T, 8k, WangXian, Modern AU, Beekeeping AU, Meet-Cute, Comedy, Fluff, Bees, come for the flirting, stay for the bee facts, and the bee puns)

10B)

No Strings Attached by stiltonbasket (G, 3k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, NieLan, Canon DivergenceFix-It, LQR is a good uncle, wwx is much smarter than he looks, and by that I mean he's a genius, Smitten LWJ, Golden Core Reveal) Chef's kiss.

🔒❤️ Joy In the Midst of These Things Series by Glitterbombshell (T/G, 53k, WangXian, Angst with Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Teacher WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff)

Seasons of Falling Flowers by merakily (G, 40k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, LQR & LWJ, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Character Study, Introspection, In-Laws, Golden Core, Emotional Baggage, Family Bonding, Protective LWJ, Good Parent LQR, LQR has feelings, LQR & WWX become friends)

someone like you by Basingstoke (G, <1k, wangxian, Future Fic, Cloud Recesses, Teacher WWX)

Overwhelming Enthusiasm by Shadaras (M, 1k, LQR & WWX, LQR & LWJ, WangXian, POV Outsider, Aftermath of Violence, Coitus Interruptus, Good Uncle LQR, Nerd WWX, Family Feels)

Menace by MnemonicMadness (T, 7k, LQR & WWX WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt WWX, BAMF WWX, Downplaying an Injury, awkward comforter LQR, reluctant matchmaker LQR, Humor, Pining WWX, Good Uncle LQR, Self-Sacrificing WWX, POV LQR, LQR is stressed, And also secretly a softie, Post-Canon)

Inconceivable by merakily (G, 3k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, post-canon, fluff, humor, in-laws, chief cultivator LWJ)

🔒 Five Shades of Home by DrPanda99 (G, 13k, wangxian, post-canon, Chinese New Year, grief/mourning, hurt/comfort, introspection, homecoming, domesticity, JC & WWX reconciliation, good uncle LQR, dumblings)

Deeper Seasons by piecrust (G, 8k, LQR & WWX, WangXian)

I'm Sorry & Thank You by Iamnotawriter (T, 12k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Golden Core, Canon-Typical Violence, lqr's epipheny, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

11. Itmf fics which make your heart full just by reading how good of a book it is, like exceptional plot and writing with minimum or explainable ooc-ness, above 100k, for ex: Dispersing Clouds , and Twelve Moons And A Fortnight. Theres more but I don't remember. @jaywuji

The Shade of Old Trees by Kryal (T, 363k, WangXian, History, Canon Divergence, Modern, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Slow Life, Action/Adventure, Magic Returns, BAMF WWX) the author even explains all their worldbuilding and character choices

Bitter Plants Bearing Sweet Fruit by Kryal (M, 83k, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, canon-typical horror elements, Worldbuilding, Desert, Misuse of Historic Setting, Original Character Death(s), Case Fic, aftermath of canon, ridiculously long author notes, Established Relationship, Nothing Explicit But Shameless Innuendo) link in #3

We Meet at the Thousandth Step by Admiranda, Rynne (T, 316k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, CSSR & WCZ Live, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Different First Meeting, Night Hunts, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Plot, Romance, Drama, Fluff, Strangers to married, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Everyone Lives, Developing Relationship, Minor Violence, Case Fic, Mystery, Flirting, WWX’s Canon-Typical Flower Flirting, Arson, There Was Only One Bed, Getting Together, First Kiss, Meeting the Parents, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, WWX Is a Good Big Brother, New Relationship Bliss, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Blood and Injury, Yiling siblings, Married WangXian, Honeymoon, Wangxian’s Baby Fever)

🔒 Building it back, stone by stone and seal by seal by KizuKatana (M, 134k, WangXian, WWX & Wen Remnants, WWX & Wen Siblings, canon-divergent, post cultivation war, nobody won, WWX starts out alone as a fugitive lone cultivator, then finds a home, then finds a family, not a reincarnation fic, just alternate reality where not everyone who was in original canon existed during the war, starting the cultivation world over from scratch, Found Family, Comfort fic, carving out a new safe home, First Time)

Birthday Party by waffles_4_breakfast (E, 102k, WangXian, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Sharing a Bed, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Canon-Typical Violence, Pining, Slow Burn, Poison, Torture, Requited Unrequited Love, First Time, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Come as Lube, Bondage, Dom/sub Undertones, Spit As Lube, Rimming, Consensual Non-Consent, Safe Sane and Consensual, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note)

🔒 and having a marvelous time by varnes (E, 108k, WangXian, Yúnmèng Siblings, Sound of Music AU, (i know!!! i know. stay with me on this.), Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Family Feels, spies to lovers???, Protective Siblings, Sometimes You Just Want Your Dads To Admit They’re Your Dads, Angst with a Happy Ending)

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 163k, WangXian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Genius WWX, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Angry WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell WangXian, Idiots in Love, Requited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, Soft WangXian, Married WangXian, Soulmates, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Immortal WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang friendly, not gusu lan friendly, Immortal LWJ)

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Getting Together, First Time, Pining while fucking, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Angst with a Happy Ending, CQL Verse, almost everybody lives/almost nobody dies, epistolary-ish, canon-ish side pairings, radishes)

Just go forward like you mean it by tawaen (M, 101k, WangXian, WWX & WN &WQ, WWX & JYL, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, WWx does not attend the Wen indoctrination, WWX saves Lotus Pier, Inventor WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, Sect Leader JYL, JC Has No Golden Core, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Not JC Friendly, but he gets a happier ending than canon so don’t look here for bashing)

A Thousand Things by tickertape (M, 108k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiāngs, Developing Friendships, lots of OCs, miscommunication and misunderstandings (they’re idiots your honor), Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Slow Burn)

Love Song In Reverse by timetoboldlygo (T, 237k, WangXian, Amnesia, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Falling In Love, Slow Burn, agressively mixing and matching novel and cql canon, No Homophobia, Mentions of Starvation, Parental WWX)

the problem with authority by isabilightwood (M, 139k, wangxian, qingli, Canon Divergence, Sacrifice Summon, slightly dark!JYL, wq lives because i said so, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chronic Pain, Mild Sexual Content, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, manipulative relationship (background xiyao))

🔒 Cultivating immortality by KizuKatana (E, 231k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Mutual Pining, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, unreliable narrator, Found Family, First Time, novel canon relationship dynamics) Besides Madam Yu being a bit more comically evil than in cannon, I feel Wangxian were pretty in character for the cannon divergence and afterwards.

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 887k, WangXian, WIP, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Getting Together, Supportive LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Supportive LXC, Canon Divergence, Inventor WWX, Possessive LWJ, Cultivation Sect Politics, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Fluff and Smut, Burning of the Cloud Recesses, Fall of Lotus Pier, Angst, Sunshot Campaign, Not JFM Friendly, split into parts, Part 1 complete, Part 2 complete, Original Character(s)) They start off pretty in character and any deviations are pretty well explained by the situation, or can be completely interpreted as a consequence of shown off screen actions. Like I’ve read most all of this fic, and for a while now I’ve gotten the feeling wangxian wasn’t the only one affected by LQR’s rifling through the Lan’s “possibly dangerous artifacts room”. But the author’s actually really good at keeping the characters 1 feeling like human beings and 2 capturing the original feeling of the characters even when the au goes in a wildly different direction than cannon does.

~*~

12. Hello and happy New Year!! I've been following this page since it's infancy but I've never asked before, and decided to finally give it a shot. (Hopefully I'm doing it right.) :D

I was hoping you could recommend fics.

A) Any fics where WWX raises LSZ from being a baby and they have a deep connection with each other. Best if WWX doesn't die or have to leave. Similar to their relationship in "Edge of Night" by Hobbsy3. (Doesn't have to be Single Dad WWX)

B) Also, looking for any fic where WWX goes crazy. Similarly to the fic where LWJ dies and WWX goes mad trying to revive him, he does and eventually the fic ends with both of them passing at Cloud Recesses. (Unfortunately, I can't remember the name of the fic.)

Thank you so much for all your hard work in continuing this blog after Miss Mojo's retirement. (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

12A)

🔒❤️ kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst)

it’s a long road but we’re not alone by Stratisphyre (M, 61k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Parenthood, Grief/Mourning, Family Feels, Reunions, Golden Core Reveal, Getting Together)

🔒 how to make your dad fall in love with your high school teacher in five steps; the complete and bulletproof guide by ravenditefairylights (T, 90k, wangxian, modern, coffee shop au, nonbinary LSZ, hurt/comfort, trauma, past abuse, past domestic violence, healing, hurt WWX, found family, hospitalization, therapy, single parent WWX, pining, teacher LWJ, unreliable narrator, chronic pain, queer platonic relationship, genderfluid WWX, autistic LWJ, fluff & angst)

my little love by mellowflicker (T, 54k, WangXian, Modern AU, Single Parent WWX, kindergarten teacher!lwj, Kid Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Pining)

Picture Perfect by manaika (M, 22k, WangXian, WWX/Other(s), Past Relationship(s), Widower WWX, Grief/Mourning, Getting Together, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Stepfather WWX, WWX is the father who stepped up, LSZ is a Wei, Single Parent WWX, Asexual Character, Aromantic Relationship, Platonic Life Partners, it's all in the past and only mentioned/discussed when relevant, Sex-Favorable Asexual WWX, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Modern, Past Character Death, Food Intake Related Medical Issue (not what you think))

And They Were Quarantined by thunderwear (E, 3zun, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, NHS & LWJ, quarantine fic, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, LXC is a total slut for his roommates and he isn't even trying to hide it, Eventual Smut, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Getting Together, Single Dad WWX, Long-Distance Relationship, kind of??, Fluff, almost no angst, Happy Ending, First Time, Phone Sex, switching POV, Domestic Fluff, Rabbits, little a-yuan is the best, Anxiety Attacks, Touch-Starved, LWJ gets his hug!, And Then Some ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ), a-yuan is best boy, A-Yuan is an agent of chaos and everyone thinks its cute, And they're right …but not for long?, NHS should never be trusted alone with kids)

~*~

13. Hi again, you wonderful people, you! Thank you so much for all your hard work! ITMF post-canon fics where for some reason WWX has to perform Empathy in LWJ, and for the first time he sees the suffering LWJ went through in the 13/16 missing years. Bonus points if it causes him a ton of angst. @thegertie

~*~

14. Hi, ITMF for:

A) fics where Wei Wuxian uses other weapons apart from the sword or flute (not once off either, at least using the other weapon 2 or 3 times)

B) fics where Wei Wuxian has an animal companion, preferably crows/ravens but other animal will do as long as they are prevalent

Thank you mods and community for the hard work!! Have a lovely day <3 @nyankokoko

14B)

Your love gives me Wings by SaiaiSaiko (M, 27k, WangXian, WWX Lives, MXY Lives, Winx Club Fusion, Enchantix Form, Sirenix From Winx Club, Believix From Winx Club, fairy WWX, Witch WWX, Curses, bad health, Bad Health through Curses, Spiritual Tools are Pixies, Accelerated Aging, older looking WWX, Fairy NHS, BAMF WWX, BAMF NHS, WWX in WWX's Body, JZX Lives, NMJ Lives, JYL Lives, The following tags contain spoilers, Evil JGS, Trans MXY, Self-Discovery, Misgendering, Victim JGY, Curse Breaking) is a winx club fuion where Wei Wuxian does have his fairy animal

Tamer of Darkness and Ghosts by SaiaiSaiko (T, 16k, WangXian, WIP, Pokemon Fusion, Older WWX, Younger LWJ, Older LXC, Basically everyone is older but LWJ & NHS, Younger NHS, BAMF WWX, The Wen's live, YLLZ WWX, Burial Mounds Settlement Days) ok 14 is shameles self promotion and wierd, so take it or leave it but Tamer of Darkness and Ghost is a full on Pokemon fusion WIP

🔒 A Heart Undying by NonsensicalRambling (M, 114k, WangXian, Undead WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical dead things the burial mounds, Fix-It of Sorts, Canon Divergence, Eventual WangXian, No Yīn Tiger Seal, Morally Gray WWX, Animals Eating People, WWX’s questionable choices, Morally conflicted LWJ, Oblivious WWX, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei, YLLZ WWX, Sect Leader WWX, LWJ & WQ have an Understanding)

Run Off The World by Sapphire_Roses (M, 336k, wangxian, XuanLi, SongXiao, WIP, Not Everyone Dies AU, Canon Divergence, Wen Remnants Live, Flashbacks, YLLZ WWX, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei Sect, Sect Leader WWX, Married WangXian, OCs, POV Outsider, Morally Grey Characters, (Do Take That Tag Seriously), Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Developing Friendships, Fluff, Attempt at Humor, Yunmeng Siblings Feels, Gusu Siblings Feels, Sibling Bonding, Pining, Character Study, Tenderness, Mild Smut, POV Alternating, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Minor Character Death)

Odd Geometry by maziodyne (M, 116k, WIP, WangXian, ChengSang, XuanLi, QingLi, background NieLan, AU - WWX does not grow up in Lotus Pier, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, Elemental Magic Healer!WWX, Sunshot Campaign, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Slow Burn, letter writing, romance, flirting at inopportune times, Crows, Familiars, Homoeroticism, epic divorce incoming, triple agent wq, lockpicking, communication (but does it change anything?))

~*~

15. hi! ITMF some fics in which WWX has a medical problem that impacts him a lot. Can be modern or canon. @nao13th

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, What if WWX saw the first siege of the burial mounds and said Nope to the war, OCs, OC point-of-view for one chapter for plot reasons)

The River Brought You Here by ChilianXianzi (Not Rated, 11k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, POV Outsider, Amnesia, not JC friendly, Past abuse, Strangulation, Found Family)

And They Have Escaped The Weight of Darkness by cosmicmilktea (T, 10k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Screw the Cultivation world tbh, The Lan precepts deserves better, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Social justice boyfriends wangxian, Happy Ending)

Work in Tandem by MimiSpearmint (E, 23k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Single Parent LWJ, when you just want disability-led sword lessons for your child, swordflight instructor!wwx, swordflight instructor!lwj, Fluff, give lwj friends agenda, Protective LWJ, Getting Together, Intercrural Sex, Choking, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Implied off-screen D/s negotiations)

misunderstood ‘verse by sysrae (M, 7k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, getting hit by cars, Past Child Abuse, Friends to Lovers, Abusive YZY, Caring LWJ, Injured WWX, partial hearing loss, the real OTP is everyone x therapy)

🔒 some things go forward by everythingispoetry (T, 73k, WangXian, Modern AU, Hospitals, Teenage Drama, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending)

Come Around and Stay by trippednfell (M, 160k, WangXian, NieLan, Slow Burn, Kid Fic, Found Family, Modern AU, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, PTSD, Blood and Injury, Dissociation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Musicals, POV Alternating, Baking, Yunmeng reconciliation (eventually), Friend Zoning, Literal Sleeping Together, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks)

Like a Water-Worn Stone by meyari (T, 41k, wangxian, major character death, Hurt/Comfort, very little hurt, lots of comfort, Chronic Illness, Serious Injuries, Self-Medication, Disability, PTSD, Depression, Self-Worth Issues, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aftermath of war, Aftermath of Violence, Prisoner of War, Identity Issues, Warning: Jīn Guāngshàn, enslavement (discussion of), abuse (discussion of), actually very fluffy despite the warnings)

~*~

16. heyo, are there any fics where its like modern or something and Wei Wuxian is dating Lan When but has trouble communicating with Lan When because every time he does something, he feels like he messes up but lan Zhan just loves him no matter what? Please let me know, please and thank you😁 @yasssbassss

Wei Ying and Lan Zhan are not dating in all of these but I think they have the communication issues you're describing: The Mistletoe Virgin by Vamillepudding (G, 12k, WangXian, Modern AU, Romantic Comedy, Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Deaf LWJ)

Not Just Netflix and Chill (Or Lan Zhan’s Lack of Grasp of Euphemisms) by misscam (M, 4k, WangXian, Modern, Getting Together, Humor, Romance)

Grace and a tender hand by feyburner (T, 4k, WangXian, Modern, First Date, Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Fluff)

🔒 California Here We Come (Right Back Where We Started From) by LizzyPanic (M, 23k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, Getting Together, Misunderstandings, Communication, Breaking Up & Making Up, Miscommunication, Pining, Modern , America, Break Up, Insecurity)

~*~

17. Haloo!! I read accross the street to another life like a month ago and i can't get over it 😭😭 Could you pls recommend a fic similiar?? Thanks in advance!!! @for13years-i-play-inquiry-foryou

Mask by BurningTea (M, 30k, WangXian, Rape/Non-Con, Non con tag refers to activity between WWX and LWJ which WWX believes to be consensual, Bottom LWJ, War Prize LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Canon Divergence, dubcon) Lan Zhan is captured and controlled by the Wens, similar to Across the street to another life. Please mind the tags on Mask, though.

Turn Left by kianspo (M, 204k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, LWJ & XXC, LXC/NMJ, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Friends to Loverse, ventually, references to child sexual abuse, not main characters, Canon-Typical Violence, Neurodivergent LWJ, LXC is the best brother, Slow Build, Lan Family Feel, Twin Jades of Lan Feels, LWJ-centric, Twin Jades of Lan Dynamics, basically a lot of twin jades in a wangxian fic, Not Everyone Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, they switch your honor) It's similar to Across the street to a different life in that Lan Zhan is kidnapped at a young age and leads a very different life from what is expected.

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @/mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Posting schedule: Friday Misdemeanor, and Wednesdays for one the occasional one shot. Tag lists are always open. 

Join us in the VoxTek Discord server for a Vox themed Hazbin place to hang and get teasers for upcoming chapters! 

my AO3 and Kofi

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart 

For MisD, please see the linked dedicated masterlist.

For Eternity (Completed)

Banner by @redvexillum

Alastor x Angel!Wife Oc (Isabel) Rated: Adult Warnings: This fic contains sexual content, explorations of consent within Angel Dust's contract in relation to sex work, Sexual assault, Possessive and obsessive behaviors, Power dynamics, Adam being an ass, kidnapping, Vox is in hell for a reason, Val is in hell for a reason, Vox has a weird thing for Alastor, Angel Dust is sweet as pie, murder, revenge, implied sexual assault and harassment, miscarriage and death.

Summary: Isabel died young, leaving behind her husband to pick up the pieces. Finding herself in Heaven, she waits for her husband to join her. And waits. And waits. Years and decades pass as she faces the realization that Alastor may not be joining her in Heaven, leaving her largely alone in a realm of double standards and fake smiles.

She must decide if she is going to move on from her marriage or do whatever it takes to reunite with her husband. Would he even still want her? Would she survive the dangers to find him? Would the cost be worth what could be gained?

Is Heaven really Heaven if the one you love isn't there with you?

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Another day in Paradise (On hiatus)

Pairing: Eventually Alastor x OFC, later- light Alastor x ofc x Lucifer Rated: Adult for eventual smut Content warnings: It's Hazbin Hotel- this feels redundant. Sex, eventual smut, referenced implied suicide to be discussed in more detail later, drugs, drinking, poor coping, toxic behavior, controlling behavior, cannibalism, idk, it's fucking Hazbin Hotel, if it's worth a content warning it's probably going to come up at some point? Religious trauma. reader has a name/is a oc.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4 (slated for rewrite)

A Taste of Sugar

Alastor x reader Rated: Adult for smut TW: blood kink, bondage, reader with trauma from food insecurity Summary: As you work through the trauma of your life and starving to death, you dismantle your stash of snacks for what you hope will be the final time. Snack cakes, cookies and crackers are given to everyone around you, except one resident in the hotel whom you knew wouldn't enjoy or consume the treats. Then, as the flow of treats tricked to a stop, stash dismantled, small brown boxes containing treats began to appear at your door. Simple, delicious and seemingly homemade treats without so much as a note.

He watched and he waited, each week for your offer. Each week, no offer came and again he left his gift at your door. Why would you not think of him? Why would you not see him? What did he have to do for you to consider him?

Chapters: 1,  2 

Wild Flowers (One shot)

Alastor x reader Rated: Adult, 18+ Content warnings: Sex pollen trope and related questionable consent due to intoxication, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, knotting, praise, dancing that shouldn't be that sexy, biting, a touch of blood drinking, female masterbation, some possessiveness, Alastor being a bit of an ass

Summary: You had always loved flowers, so when you found a patch of pretty purple wildflowers growing in the small forest behind the hotel, you didn't think twice about picking a small handful to bring back to your room. While they smelled lovely, you were wholly unprepared for the side effects of exposure or the repercussions of offering the terrifyingly handsome Radio Demon a smell on your way to your room.

With your body burning from the inside out with an overwhelming need and a displeased Radio Demon pushing his way into your room, you have no idea what you're in for.

All you wanted was to pick some flowers but you got so much more.

Audio version brought to you by @nyx-umbrakinesis,  Pt1, Pt2, Pt3, Pt4, Pt5, Pt6.

Steamy Situations 18+  (One shot)

Alastor x reader Rated: Adults only Warnings: Smut. It's shower smut. Female bodied reader. Careful with your shower sex.

Summary: You're hot and bored and your husband is busy working. If only there was a way you could distract him, get some of his attention and cool off. Audio Fic credits: Read by the lovely @nyx-umbrakinesis (Audio fic part 1, part 2)

Read me to sleep? (One shot)

Alastor x reader Rating: G Summary: After a long, shitty day out and about you drag yourself home to the hotel to seek shelter and comfort in the one place you knew you could find it.

From events:

Antler Play (Alastor x Doe!Reader)

CW: Lightly used incorrect deer facts, ruts and seasons, insertion of an item 100% not safe or intended for insertion, light fem receiving oral, female masterbation Summary: Alastor, having just rode out his rut alone is faced with the startling realization that you, a fellow deer demon in the hotel, have not just come into season but your first season since your death. Alastor is left unable to mate you due to the poor timing but finds other ways to see to your needs and trick your body into thinking the deed has been done.

Mine (Alastor x Doe!reader)

CW: Smut, blood, knots, ruts Summary: Alastor and his Doe have weathered the passing of the seasons, though he has failed to define their relationship and she's been too afraid to ask. Now, Alastor's Rut is upon him and it's time for her to return the favor. *Follow up to Antler Play*

Curiosity (Alastor x Reader)

CW: Sensory deprivation, established situationship, smut, porn with way too many feelings, love confessions. Summary: Alastor overhears Angel Dust telling you about Val's latest thing- sensory deprivation. Curiosity wins out over sensibility.

Not afraid Of A Little Blood (Human ALastor x Reader)

CW: Public sex, period sex, vaginal fingering, licking fingers clean Summary: Out at Mimzy's Speakeasy for a night on the town, Alastor finds himself feeling rather amorous and isn't swayed by your monthly condition or the public nature of the location. You find your will crumbles as he shows he's simply not a man who's afraid of a little blood.

I Own You (Alastor x Reader)

CW: Suicidal thoughts, suicidal actions, Anxiety, depression, shitty fuckin mental health, Pissed off Alastor, possessive Alastor, Branding, blood as lube, Toxic ass relationships, self doubt, smut, mirror sex Summary: After getting a bunch of comments telling you you're not good enough for Alastor, old demons come back to life in your mind sending you to embrace the coping mechanism that sent you to hell in the first place. Alastor stops your plans in their tracks and is rather displeased by your actions.

A Pirate, A wench and Whisky (Alastor x Reader)

CW: Closet sex, drunk sex thus murky consent, clothed sex, p n v sex, cream pies, thigh riding, biting, blood drinking Summary: Charlie decided hosting a costume party would be the best way for the residents to celebrate the season and for the hotel to get some grand publicity. Dressing up wasn't optional. Though you were proud of your bar wench costume- not too skimpy but just skimpy enough, not everyone announced their plans.

The result was a bar wench that did everything you could to avoid the red pirate, drowning your anxiety in shot after shot of whiskey only to find yourself cornered by the very man you could hardly look at when you made an attempt to retire for the night.

Incomplete Summonings (Demon Alastor/Alastor shadow x Human reader)

CW: Creampie, temperature play, demon summoning, virginity, light blood, Sex with Alastor's shadow, Sex with Alastor, human Vox cameo Summary: You summoned a demon to remove your romantic competition from the equation. When your sacrifice was far too little, earning you only the shadow of the demon you had called, you had to find something else to sacrifice to pay the price.

Stuff You like a What?! (Alastor x reader)

CW: Tentacles, gags, edging, orgasm denial, established relationship, suspension, cream pies Summary: As your lover is just about to reach his finish, you complete a dare issued by Angel Dust. The unexpecting words leaving your mouth leaves Alastor's finish in ruins and he is a man that feels an eye for an eye is far too merciful...

Knife's Edge (Human!Alastor x reader)

CW: Knifeplay, stranger sex, smut, creampies, dub con Summary: Stepping away from the party, you tried to get some are. It's a chance encounter with a dangerous stranger that leaves your dress ruffled, your panties missing and you facing some new facts about yourself.

To the Beat of the Music (Human!Alastor x reader)

CW: Smut, sexual harassment, 3rd person, pussy slapping. semi public sex, smut, creampie. It's fucking. Summary: When a flapper won't take the hint that Alastor isn't interested in her, he has no choice but to shut her up and make a point. Sometimes, punishment can be pleasure.

A Monstrous Broadcast (Monster!Alastor x reader)

CW: Post Stayed Gone Monster Al, Size kink go brr, Blood, DubCon, belly bulge, broadcasting sex, cream pies, cum painting... Summary: You were sent to Alastor's Broadcasting tower to tell him something just in time to catch the tail end of Stayed Gone. Alastor is in a rather unique mood and in terrifying form as he decides the best way to work his excess energy off is with you.

Birthday Cake (Alastor x reader)

A short birthday fluff with a splash of angst

Home is where the heart is (One shot fluff) 

Vox x Reader Rated: General Warnings: I accidently spilled a little angst on the fluff serving. Sorry?

Summary: You're cooking dinner when your secret boyfriend comes home. Caught up in the moment, confessions are made and hearts are put on the line.

A Bed of Electric FLowers (One Shot)

Header done in part by the wonderful, amazing, fantastical @redvexillum

Vox x ReaderRated: Adult CW: Sex pollen trope, sex toy use, female masterbation, Vox's glowstick dick, way too many tv details, Male receiving oral,

Summary: A unexpected floral arrangement is delivered to your door as you're trying to ignore the lingering absence of your flat faced boyfriend. When Vox returns home and finds you in a compromising position, he's eager to assist even without a clue as to what has you so worked up.

Sister Dearest (One shot)

Requested: Vox x Alastor’s!Sister!Reader rated: Adult

Summary: Sneaking out of the protection of the protection of your brother's district was dangerous. Not only did you risk Alastor's wrath, you risked catching the eye of some unsavory characters. While you could meet many friends upon the streets of the forbidden tech district, you find Vox and his alluring promises of a good time.He knew of your brother and seemed to hold no animosity, surely he was a friend to the Radio Demon, right? Surely you could trust his company, right?Right?

Power (One Shot)

Vox x Reader Rating: Explicit 18+ Warnings: Porn without plot, Power dynamics, Secretary reader, Choking on dick, Office blowjob. 

Summary: Vox is wound tight after his on air showdown with the newly returned Alastor. The show must go on though and you have just what he needs to get into the right headspace to move forward. 

KittyCat (Vox x Kitty!Reader)

CW: Public sex, heats, electric play, collars, public nudity, breeding, creampie Summary: Being a cat demon, you suffered some of the most extreme heat cycles in all of hell. Every few weeks you went out of your mind with the need to be bred. It didn't matter who, when, where or how.

It was a good thing you belonged to Vox. But what happens when your cycle sneaks up on you, slamming into you a little earlier than expected while Vox is at a meeting? Can you make it to your powerful lover before someone else takes you or will you fall for the first male you see?

Quiet In the Theater (Human!Vox x reader)

CW: Power dynamics (Boss/assistant), Public sex, public fingering, public cockwarming, edging. Summary: As a reward for years of diligent service, your boss rewarded you with a movie date. Except, it wasn't a date and you watching the movie was more of a chore... Follow up to: Dressing Room but not required to be read together

Package Delivery (Vox x Reader)

CW: Roleplay, Electric stim, Blowjobs, doggy style, p n v sex, she really corny porn dialog, oops I spilled a little angst Summary: After working too many late nights and canceling too any dates, Vox decides to make it up to you with an unplanned surprise. New desires are unlocked and explored as two lovers who’ve been apart for too many nights fall back together. 

What’s more romantic than a stiff, cheap VoxTek delivery uniform and a new work laptop, anyway? Follow up to Home Is Where The Heart Is

Teaching Him A Lesson (Lucifer x Reader) (Cucked Alastor x reader)

CW: Drunk sex, Dub con due to drinking, cream pie, breakup rebound sex, noncon cucking, fem receiving oral, bondage for Alastor Summary: After being dumped by Alastor, you soothe your heart at the hotel bar. Lucifer is more than willing to listen to your sorrows and even indulge you when you take Angel Dust's advice of fucking your way over Alastor. Unfortunately, when Alastor sees you slip into your room with someone else, he regrets his choice and Lucifer decides to teach him a lesson.

Lost Flowers (Lucifer x Human!Reader)

CW: Sex pollen, compromised consent, smut, oral sex, fingering Summary: Imps doing whatever the fuck they did dropped a sex flower in the human world and it's Lucifer's problem as the king of Hell to find it. When he finds it, picked up by you, he has a obligation to help you ride out the effects.

Praise Be Thy Tongue (Lucifer x reader)

CW: oral, fem receiving, slight praise kink Summary: After turning your back on Heaven in favor of the man you had fallen in love with, you present yourself to Lucifer asking that he show you the ways of pleasure…

What's This (Lucifer x Fallen!Reader)

CW: Cock ring, overstimulation, pleasure Dom undertones, wings, Luci a bit in his feels, Begging, praise, multiple orgasms Summary: Lucifer's lover, a newly fallen Angel continues her exploration of sinful pleasure as Lucifer teaches her what the cockring she found in his nightstand is for. Follow up to Praise Be Thy Tongue

Hot and Cold (Lucifer x Fallen!Reader)

CW: Wax play, Ice play, Ice put inside the body, Oral, It's just smut, don't put ice cubes up your whooha, only use body safe wax for wax play Summary: Lucifer treats his newly fallen love to a picnic and on a whim decides to expand her pleasurable horizons using the ice from the champagne bucket and the wax from the candles.

A follow up to Praise Be Thy Tongue

Titties (Adam x Reader)

CW: Titty fucking, large breasts, Adam being adam, oral, cum shots, facial Summary: Adam and his new, large breasted lover have been fucking like rabbits but you're tired and sore. Adam though, in love with your curves will gladly take the chance to lavish your chest with some affection.

The Original Dick (Adam x Reader)

CW: Rough blowjob, semi public blowjob, m receiving oral, stalking, reader is a bit craycray Summary: After repeated encounters with Adam at work, through the hole, you have no choice but to follow him in hopes of finding an organic way to meet again. When you're less of a skilled stalker than you thought, you're faced with the repercussions of your actions. (Follow up to crash landings)

Crash Landings (Adam x Reader)

CW: Rough sex, Dub con, sex pollen, degradation, pussy slapping, fingering, compromised ability to consent Summary: After taking damage to his wings, Adam has no choice but to make an emergency landing in a clearing of purple flowers, unaware of the unique flora of hell. While he waits for his flight feathers to regrow, he's met with some rather unexpected side effects of exposure to Hyperrigidus Purpureus pollen. His luck this extermination had been shit but when a pretty little demoness all but trips over him, he is pretty sure his luck was about to change.

Satin Ribbons (Adam x Reader)

CW: Smut, Adam typical degradation Summary: It was once a year that you got to see your angelic lover. A romantic, or perhaps just sexual, tryst you waited all year for. This year, you dressed yourself in something you hoped Adam would think about all year long. (AU follow up to Crash Landings)

Joint Broadcast (Alastor x reader x Vox)

CW: Cheating, Dubcon, brat taming, Anal, double penetration, caught cheating, nonconsensual broadcast Summary: You thought you could have your cake and eat it, too. In this case, your cakes were Alastor and Vox in romantic and sexual relationships. Sure, you didn't disclose your entanglements with the other but what were the odds they would find out? When the unexpected comes to reality, you're left alone with two angry men who could end your existence. They intend to punish you but in the last way you expect…

Casting Call (Valentino x Reader)

CW: Sex machine, sex work, casting call for adult films Summary: Having grown tired of scraping by, you attend a casting call for the leading pornography studio in hell. You're surprised to find the casting call takes place with the head director himself, Valentino. Same Reader as Crash Landings

Fallen For Glory (Sinner!Adam x reader)

CW: Glory holes, sex work, Oral (M receiving), fem masterbation Summary: Seven months after your fated encounter with the First man, you struggled to get him off your mind. Even after a unexpected failed early extermination and the broadcasted slaying of Adam on the battlefield, you couldn't get him off your mind as rumors of him being reborn, sentenced to hell himself made it impossible for you to let go.

And then, sitting in the both of the shitty glory hole joint Valentino ran, you heard his voice once again. Rumors were true. Adam lived and your obsession was fueled by nothing more than the taste of him on your tongue.

This was the best day at the office... Follow up to Crash Landings

[cybsoo2]

closer

╰┈➤ synopsis — Your relationship is on the rocks. The tide sweeps you away and leaves your love out to dry. As the final wave of realization washes over you, you try to run away. Taehyung can't take it anymore and reaches his breaking point. The only way to keep you, is to cut you close.

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!taehyung x reader

╰┈➤ word count — 2.4k

╰┈➤ content warning — yandere behavior, self-harm, implied/referenced suicide, suicide attempt, threats, toxic!relationship, munchausen syndrome, angst

Your life is out of love. Taehyung took everything from you. Your youth, your energy, and all your attention. You've given him everything your heart has to offer. But all this fear & fighting has bleed you to the bone. If you let yourself live like this for even a minute more, you have no doubt that the fire inside of you will run dry. Its flames snuffed out by Taehyung’s suffocating sickness.

You were once a careless couple, so raw with romance. But time turnt its ugly head and what were once happy memories became nighttime nostalgia. Your relationship began to decay at the very first appearance of Taehyung’s disease. His obsession was slow and steady like the sea. It rolled up in waves. At first he began to act more clingy, hesitant to let you leave his hold. Then the second wave came in, he grew jealous of your friends and family. The third wave drew in suspicion, but by then you were already swept up by the tide. 

You’ve become so entangled in his toxic touch, that you doubt your soul will ever be set free. And although the risk is high and will result in heartbreak, you can’t help but chase after the reward. To live a free life again, away from the sickness that Taehyung spreads. This time apart may even begin to slowly heal his heart. So you’ve decided that when dawn falls, you’ll run away from all this heartache. Leaving the love of your life only out of hope for a better future. A healthy and heartfelt one that you both deserve, even if it isn’t what he wants. 

Taehyung finds out he lost your love through a letter. He had never meant to stumble upon the scripted confession, it was purely an accident. Stuffed away behind the bookshelf and only to be revealed by a burst of air. The gust of wind carried the paper up into the air and falling at Taehyung’s feet.

He's hesitant to pick up the paper, his insecurities already beginning to eat away at his mind. Why was the letter hidden away from him? What secretive thoughts did you not want to tell him? He's already assuming the worst.

His hands shake as he picks up the lonely letter. The words are rushed and bleed into one another. His blurry vision makes it hard to read, but he manages to catch the common words:

Tired. Suffocated. Can't. Hurts. Falling out of lo–

He can't read anymore. His tears are falling too fast and so is his heart. It sinks to the bottom of his stomach. An empty pit replaces it and he feels as if he might puke. He can already taste the metallic tang in his mouth. 

How could he have been so stupid? Of course you’d never love him like he loves you. A love so strong that it spread like a sickness. Swallowing him whole and now he’s dying of this disease. And instead of staying by his side, you’re running away. 

It’s all your fault. You stole his heart and now he can’t escape. He fell in love so fast it left him unsteady. Insecurities overflowing and questions consuming him. So many fears fester under the skin. Their whispers are warped reality, making him second guess everything he has with you. 

You stayed late at work last week, are you cheating on him? You said you had to study and aren’t paying him any attention, do you even care about him? You say you love him, but is it all a lie? 

Taehyung can’t tell what's real or not. His love sickness has spread to his mind, making him act irrational. He feels so confused and overwhelmed with emotions. The only time he can tell what’s true, is when it’s all red. 

Your pain is his passion. Because when he’s bleeding out right before you, you finally show him how much you care. Cradling him in your arms, pressing hasty kisses to the top of his head. His heart feels full and he can finally see clearly. He has no other option, he’ll die if he doesn’t have you. 

He makes his way to the bathroom where he knows you’ve kept them hidden. Those silver painkillers that sting his skin. He can hear his heartbeat ringing in his ears. He’s so, so scared. But not because of what he’s about to do, but rather because of how you’ll react. He can't stand the idea of you being upset at him. He much rather prefers your pretty tears to your angry voice. But this is just a risk he'll have to take.

He picks up his phone and pulls up the keypad. Your number is ingrained in his memory. Dialing those ten digits is as easy as breathing. How many times has he done this before? Calling you up while crying through the phone. Begging you to stay with blood on his hands. You come running back into the relationship every time. Kissing his cuts and promising you’ll love him for all eternity. And although your heart is begging to break the cycle, this time will be no different. 

“Why?”  His voice rings through the voice. 

There’s silence on your end of the line. You’re taken aback by the simple question. Taehyung sounds so… defeated. His words are so weak they barely even make their way through the phone. 

“Why don’t you love me?” 

You can hear the way his breath shakes, shallow and barely there. He tries to hide his cries behind his hand, but you can hear the way his voice begins to break. 

“You found the note didn’t you?” You let out a soft sigh. Your heart is heavy with guilt. You never wanted him to find out this way. Having this talk with him has been plaguing your mind all week. Running over the outcomes and figuring out the best way to break the news. But there’s no perfect way to do this, and when you think of how everything will end, it’s always red.

“I don’t understand–” He quickly corrects himself.  “I can’t understand. I love you. Why isn’t that enough?” He swallows down the sadness in his throat. It’s a lump that makes it hard to talk. He gets tongue tied and can barely say anything without the words breaking off. 

“Taehyung–” You try to interrupt him. Eager to end his rambling before he gets wrapped up in his own head. 

Taehyung stuffs down his sadness and it sinks to the bottom of his stomach. Acid rises and he feels as if he’s going to throw up. A burning heat slides up his throat and he’s spitting out the words before he can think twice.

“I always knew you hated me! I give you everything and it’s never enough!” Taehyung’s anger is quick to replace the anguish. His jealousy always clouding his head and covering his eyes to the truth.

“Taehyung please, can we talk about this when I get home?” His harsh words hurt your ears and tears begin to prick at your eyes. Pink-tinted and puffy, everyone around you can see your sadness on full display. Your coworkers whisper rumors to each other and their eyes stare through your skin. All the attention makes you itch, your heartbeat picking up the pace. You’re so sure that they can all hear Taehyung yelling at you through the phone. 

“No! We’re talking about this now. You never care about what I want. All you ever do is try to hurt me. I bet you wouldn’t even care if I just dropped dead.”

“Taehyung! Stop it! You know that’s not true. I do love you.” Everyone else’s eyes on you are now the least of your worries. Now only pure panic races through your veins. His emotions are beginning to eat away at his resolve, making him irritant and irrational. 

“If you really loved me you wouldn’t try to leave.”His voice is laced with betrayal. After building up a perfect image of you it’s all broken down by some flimsy little letter. 

You reach for your car keys on impulse, ready to drop everything and race back home to where Taehyung resides. Yet, you hesitate, hands stilling right before you can grab them. You made a promise to your hurting heart that you wouldn’t do this again– that you couldn’t. If you run back one more time, you’ll surely drown under the sea of his dark obsession. 

However, that doesn’t mean you want him to suffer. So you attempt to reason with the man, “That’s exactly why I’m doing this.”  You’re fighting back tears as you try to say your final goodbyes.“Taehyung…” His name hangs heavy in the air. So much emotion said in a single word. “This isn’t healthy. Not for me, and especially not for you. To be honest… I’m scared for you. Ever since we started dating you’ve only gotten worse, and I fear that it’s all my fault.” You pause for a moment, “I think we just need some time apart. Some time to focus on ourselves and get the proper help we need.”

There’s silence through the phone. The truth is a hard to swallow pill and Taehyung can’t stomach it. 

Waiting for him to respond makes your anxiety rise. Will he finally face the truth? Or will he continue to succumb to his obsession? The outcome is obvious; “You’re lying. You’re just making up excuses so you don’t have to admit how you really feel about me. Just say it already. Tell me you don’t love me.” 

Taehyung tries to justify his jealousy. Spitting out lies to lure you in. He hates hurting you– truly he does, but he’d do anything to keep you from escaping his arms. It always works out in the end, because you come running back to sooth his insecurities. 

“I love you.” You say, unwilling to lie to him even if that’s what he’s expecting.

“Then let’s test how true that is.” Taehyung tightens his grip on the silver blades. He holds the sharp edge to his bronze skin. Blood already begins to pool at the surface with how much pressure he’s applying. “How would you react if I killed myself because of you?” His tone is dead serious. Tongue so sharp it cuts through you like a knife. 

Fear paralyzes you. A cold chill crawls up your spine and sinks its teeth into your skin. Terror spreads like venom through your veins. You’re sitting still in shock, but you manage to whisper out two words, “You wouldn't.”

“Come home and find out.” The line goes dead and you fear that if you’re not fast enough, he’ll be too.

As you run up the stairs to your shared apartment, you feel like you’re spiraling down to insanity. The staircase seems neverending in your race against time. You’re out of breath and breaking a sweat as you take the steps two at a time. 

After what feels like two hours of running, you collapse in front of your door. Your knees buckle before you can stop them. Your body begs you to catch your breath, but you rise up again with the last rush of adrenaline.

The door to your apartment taunts you. The bronze borders shine clearly under the moon. The little bit of light the window offers lets the door glisten like gold. But the door is stained with red paint. It chips away at the corners and overlaps the edges, almost as if it was painted in a hurry. The red door stares you down, but you build up the courage to walk right through. You already know what you’ll find when you step into the room.

Taehyung’s tears are red. He’s crying carmine and it’s staining every inch of his skin. The flesh split open with cruel cuts. They wrap around his wrists and spill scarlet onto the carpet. 

A trail of blood travels from the bathroom to the bed. You try to fit the bloody pieces back together. He must have found the razor blades under the bathroom sink. You thought you had hidden them away well enough, backed behind the towels and bottled chemicals. Taehyung could never stand the strong scent of them so he never bothered to look there. Now you realize how naive you really were. 

The drops of dark blood begin at the bathroom door. He must have cut himself in such a painful panic. The force of his frantic cuts have spilled blood onto every surface. His arteries so severely cut that they’ve sprayed onto the walls. The trail then leads to where Taehyung now lies. Dying in his own arms and surrounded by his suffering. The blood pools around his pale body while he fights to keep his eyes from closing.

The shocking sight tears a sob up out of your throat. You begin to blink back tears when you see just how much damage he’s done. You grab his limp wrists and your eyes trail over the cuts. They tear into his skin like snakes; slithering up his arms and wrapping around him. You make a move to hold him close to your heart. His head weighs heavy on your shoulder. Taehyung’s too tired to hold himself up. Fighting to focus on the feeling of your arms around him. And in the midst of it all, a soft smile creeps onto his face. He’s never been happier, because you actually came back for him, you truly care. And he doubts you’ll ever try to leave again. Not after how this night has turned out. 

Now you begin to realize that breaking the cycle would be catastrophic. This red routine is drawn out like a circle. It runs round and round chasing after the dreams and desires that cannot be caught. Erasing the endless line would only end up in tragedy. Whether it be for you or Taehyung, death can only decide. 

The red sun rises once again. The cycle continues on.  Wrapped up in a red embrace, it’s just a part of the routine.

© cybsoo2 2024, all rights reserved

[steviewashere]

Back in My Head Again

Rating: Mature CW: Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Steve Harrington, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use (In Various Points), Mental Health Issues, Past Referenced Parent Death Pairings: Tommy Hagan & Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington & Steve Harrington's Father, Steddie Tags: Post-Canon, Angst, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington's Father Being an Asshole, Steve Harrington Making Some Bad Decisions, Impulsive Steve Harrington, Good Friend Tommy Hagan, Protective Tommy Hagan, Tommy Hagan Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Tommy Hagan Cares About Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is Loved, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Eddie & Tommy Bonding About Steve, Childhood Friends, Hopeful Ending This one's a very personal piece to me. So please be kind, but also take care of yourselves. This one gets dark really fucking fast. Read all content warnings and tags, take care! <3 Also on ao3 (because this is long)

☎️—————☎️ Tommy’s the only one who knows what happened to his mom. It’s not that he’s keeping her death a secret, but it’s easier to just not say anything. Sometimes, when he’s quiet in a room, all the eyes around him are a bit more attentive than they’d be if he were just being stupid. He only found out because Steve needed an ear to listen and a brain that remembers when she had been sweet.

Not that his mom hadn’t been nice or sweet or motherly. She was just…different near the end. Combative. Argumentative. Angry. He could breathe the wrong way and receive an earful for the way his nostrils whistle. Had he known the inevitable, maybe he would’ve been a little bit more receptive to her comments, accepted them like soft punches to an even softer pillow, but as it was, he was just as angry—if not more.

With her gone, his dad became worse.

They weren’t, like, buddies before she died. But if they were in the same room? Well, it would take a whole lot of tongue biting, but Steve could manage it. With his nose cradled in the crook of his elbow, all his words muffled by warm skin, and hands curled into tight white fists. At least in the before, there were only a handful of times where he felt the need to be scared of his dad. The one afternoon where he came home from a basketball practice—pent up and exhausted, hungry as hell, sweating where the sun didn’t shine—and his dad had been furious about something probably ridiculous, and charged at him from the other side of the room. Steve had acted on a weakened instinct, one he thought he trained to be obediently dormant, but when his fists went up in front of his face and his eyebrows furrowed into the soft hoods of his eyelids, he knew he’d always had to be ready just in case.

Maybe he was just a spoilt brat. Maybe he was just an angsty teenager with too many misplaced emotions. Maybe he was just naive.

But he had been ready, always, to pack his shit, dodge some punches, and get the hell back. Though, when his mom was alive, he survived on her affection like a sick bee needing sugar. Now, without her? It was a matter of time before his dad starved him. Or worse.

Tommy knew, though, about his parents. That his mom died suddenly and too young. That his dad was an asshole. He knew about the always packed backpack in his closet, the overstocked first aid kit he hid under his bed, and that secret he let spill from his lips too late one evening, beer soaked on his tongue, a hunger for Tommy’s freckles in the deep pit of his stomach—I want to kiss you, is that weird?

Was it maybe too weird that he went to Tommy still? Even after everything? Even after telling him off in that parking lot? Maybe, but Steve’s never been one to make good decisions. But there was a certain sort of security blanket when it came to talking to Tommy. 

After a bad hookup? He went to Tommy. Drank a little too much and needed somebody to not judge him for it? He called Tommy. Wet the bed from a nightmare like he did as a kid? To his childhood friend, Tommy, he ran to.

They’ve seen each other at their worsts. Well, the non-NDA, government cover-up worsts. He’d been there for Tommy when his parents divorced. Been there the first time Tommy had been rejected. Been there when Tommy was sick with the flu, threw up a little too hard, and gave himself a nose bleed. And in turn…

Steve trusted Tommy still, despite it all.

Was it unhealthy? To rely on Tommy in certain dire moments and then to recede as if it never happened? Oh yeah, Steve can recognize that. But would he go to Robin with information about his dad? No, unfortunately, he wouldn’t. There’s not enough time and comfort and days spread between them.

He’s known Tommy since he was seven years old.

If they weren’t such big piles of shit, to each other, to themselves, maybe they’d still be orbiting. But. They are, that’s the problem. They are.

Now, though, he needs Tommy.

Hugging a payphone by the nearby park, wrapped up in loose, thin layers, seventeen degrees and lips turning purple, he needs him.

“C’mon, Tommy…c’mon,” he mutters, breath puffing in front of him in a large white cloud. This is his last quarter. His cheeks are searing with tears. There aren’t gloves on his hands, his fingers are fucking numb and bluish. He’d go home, but his dad is there. Drunk and stubborn and angry, his dad is always there.

Finally, on the last ring, it’s picked up. “Hello?” Tommy answers gruffly.

Steve sobs, hard and sour and ugly, “T-Tommy.”

“Holy shit,” he hears, that voice now alert, “Steve, is that you? Oh my god, are you okay?”

His eyes dart around. The street is empty. There’s ice under his stupid sneakers, one wrong move and he’ll give himself another concussion. Words bubble in his throat, but all that leaves him is an awkward, dry retch.

“Hey,” Tommy whispers, “take…take a deep breath for me, okay? I’m—Take a moment, I’m right here.”

The breath stutters in his chest, hiccuping and sharp and painful. He heaves a sigh, is praised for it, and sniffles. “My d-dad f-fucking sucks. I hate him, Tommy. I fucking hate him.”

Over the line, Tommy shuffles—probably in his bed, this late at night; 3:23am, when Steve hazily glances at his watch. “I know,” he says softly, “what’d he do, Stevie? Or is he just…”

“He—fuck—I came downstairs to get some water, y’know, and…and I don’t know, he was just in the kitchen. I could…I could see the alcohol on the counter, so he was drinking, and he’s always drinking, Tommy…he’s always, always—but he saw me and h-he called me an asshole, I know I am, but I just—I was just trying to get some water and he just said it and he—he said it was my fault that my mom, that she…”

The moment ‘mom’ leaves his tongue, the sobs boil again in his throat. Gurgling and wet, he allows it to happen. Bile-laden sobs rip wild through his chest, staining the back of his mouth, heaving out of him because the breath burns through him too fast to mean anything. He blubbers, words incoherent through his teeth, slurred in a way only his dad knows how. And it’s within the blink of an eye, sorry on himself that he’s so close to being just like him, that he’s wrenching something deep from within his pocket.

On his sixteenth birthday, only a few short years ago, his grandpa had still been alive. Happy and well. There was one thing he gave him. A pocket knife. Heavy silver handle, sharpened silver blade, his name engraved in pointed letters. It was for self-defense, a good tool just in case of an emergency.

Is it self-defense if it was himself that he was protecting from?

Is it self-defense if it pierces between his ribs?

Is it self-defense if it was an emergency escape?

“Where are you?” Tommy asks. It’s urgent in the air, as if he’d already been asking it in Steve’s daze, looking down at the pocket knife shiny in his grip. “I’m going to come get you. Where are you?”

He could bite his tongue, he’s good at it. 

But one thing about Tommy that nobody else knows is that he’s perceptive as hell.

Steve could swallow his own tongue, but even then, Tommy would pick up that something is going seriously wrong.

“That park near my house,” he mumbles in response, “you know where it is?”

“You see a bench nearby?”

He nods stupidly, humming without words.

“Can you sit on it for me, Steve?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, “I can do that.”

“Okay,” Tommy sighs, but it doesn’t sound put-out. It’s relief. “Stay on that bench and wait for me, okay? I want to be able to see you.”

Steve hums again. Bobbles his heavy, eyes-burning head. “Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Hurry?”

His hand fists tighter around the folded pocket knife. Thumbnail etching into his own name, eggshell white paint chipping at the pressure. One wrong move, one wrong thought, one wrong second—he takes a deep breath, the air burning inside him, and can pinpoint the exact spot where the blade would rest. It’d be just one quick push. One last scream. One last bout of terror. The metal is cold in the center of his palm, yet his fingers haven’t quite picked up on the temperature.

“‘Course,” Tommy murmurs, “I’ll find you soon.”

The phone buzzes dead in his ear. There are tears crisp and hot to the gentle wobble of his chin. He darts his eyes to the nearby park bench, lonely and dark with a gentle spattering of snow along its back, and he begins the gentle path forward. Tiptoeing around sheets of slick, thin ice. Fog in the air hanging, clouding the dark sky to be a semi-permanent pale grey. He settles himself on the bench, the cold seat against his pants.

In his hand, the knife rests uneasily. It’s a light thing, but tonight it’s especially heavy. Especially daunting. He blinks, still looking at it with his tired, seeping eyes, and curls his fingers around it. It doesn’t go back to his pocket, though.

He doesn’t know, really, why he took the little knife with him. As if, possibly, there’d be a demodog out there searching for him—that’s the only truth he can bring to the forefront of his mind. That he’d be hunted down by something he could only control with the folds of his own flesh, but even that’s a sorry excuse; the demo-creatures have long since been rid of, they were connected to Vecna, and Vecna’s as good as dirt. If he had to think of a reason, Steve could conjure up reality with a simple blink. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the need had always been there.

To kill himself.

That’s as bluntly as he could put it.

Even that brings a fresh churn to his ever-churning stomach.

The need had been there, though. An etch to the sketch of his whole person. A fleeting thing. Maybe since the first time he’d been left home alone—eight years old and confused. Maybe when he called the police after his dad had hit him the first time—ten years old and told that that’s how bad kids are punished, a spanking. Maybe when he drank himself into near hysteria—thirteen years old and puking up his lungs in his mom’s nice peonies outside the kitchen window. Or maybe it was after the demogorgon—seventeen.

Could’ve been in part because of Nancy or even Jonathan. Possibly Carol. Even Barb. At one point, definitely, Tommy.

But even he knows pointing fingers at friends is pointless.

This need, this feeling, the weight of the knife in his hand—

He’d always held the handle. It was just a matter of sensitivities that controlled the blade.

Why this time?

Why now?

Because he was an asshole? Whatever. He’s been an asshole. Because his dad was home? Whatever. Steve’s always wanted him home. Because his mom was dead? Whatever. She’s been dead for over a year now. No Vecna to get her, no demogorgon to savor her—he had been eighteen, she had been sick, like really fucking sick…it was nobody’s fault.

So why now? Steve couldn’t even pinpoint the reason.

It was a build probably. Unresolved shit from the Upside Down, hand in hand with his failing minimum wage job, with his spiral of never-ending college rejection letters, on and on. He never went through with flicking open the blade. Had to protect and whatnot. Is it because there’s no reason to protect? Is it because he doesn’t have to now?

Sure, he was staying because of Dustin, Max, the lot of them, Robin, and Eddie.

He wasn’t staying for himself, though.

Why would he? Who could?

He’s always had this need to never truly pocket the knife. Despite its name.

It belonged to him. Name on it and everything. And as fate should see it, maybe it was a sign.

Read: Steve Harrington is fucked in the head and is going to do something about it.

Read: Steve Harrington brandishes a weapon and he knows how to use it.

Read: Steve Harrington wants to die and has wanted to for a really long time.

Longer than he cares to admit.

He flicks the handle, blade unsheathing with a quick schtick! It’s shiny and clean. Never used. There’d been a back up pocket knife, one he was given from his dad; it was only ever used for shotgunning beers. Couldn’t bring himself to use it for anything else outside of that. And he couldn’t ever hurt himself, not when he was swimming and playing basketball. Everybody would see. Everybody would know. He was known, sure, but not known, and the prospect of that brings a fresh wave of goosebumps to his arms. Unless that’s the cold. But the point still stands.

The knife he currently has, shiny and clean, it could use a little grit to it. Some roughage.

Why hadn’t he killed himself, though? Was it the blood that made him squeamish? The fact he’d hurt anyway? He could drown, but then there was the problem of his bloated corpse. And there was the possibility of overdosing, but then somebody would go all detective on his stupid body, trace back the ketamine in his system to Eddie…Eddie doesn’t deserve that.

He’s had plans. They were kind of…intrusive, though. Made in a split second decision. The ketamine one, he almost went through with that. Bought as much as he was allowed to purchase in one sitting, whatever Eddie was willing to part with—years ago, he has half a mind to squander, he doesn’t sell like that anymore—and then he’d return a few days later, stock up some more…he was just gonna go for it. All in one sitting. Lock the bathroom door behind him. He had even brought in a dining chair the night he was going to, set it up underneath the doorknob and everything, yet when it came to the actual drugs…

The toilet had a very open mouth and very willing stomach that night.

There was the quarry. He’d only been there a few times. Not since Will’s “body” had been discovered, but he’d been there before. It was always during a morning jog. Crisp autumn air, low hanging fog, nobody on the roads. Steve would make a detour, in his short sleeve t-shirt and even shorter shorts, and he’d jog right up to the edge.

It was farther and farther and farther down the more he went. The more he grew. Even when he sat, he was taller than the time before. Sometimes he’d throw a rock, watch it skitter down the sharp edges of other rocks, listen until the sound disappeared, until the only thing that gave proof it was there were the ripples in the water far below. There was always a passing thought, though, that he’d leave a lot more evidence behind. Every sharp edge stained with proof of him. He wanted nothing left in his wake. Wanted it to look like somebody had just snatched him while he was out, dumped him in the water, had very little care for his body. Because who would care? No, if he went through with his plan, there’d be evidence. The news would break: Steve Harrington, age 15, Death By Suicide. Or would they publish it? Beat around the bush, probably. Save face and all.

Point is, there had been plans steadily over the years. Each one getting smaller and smaller and lesser and lesser. It was always the clean up that startled him. The fear that little bits and pieces of him would be left behind. Vomited foam from his mouth, blood from his head, the wet shadow of his body pulled from the pool. He’d be everywhere. And everyone would know.

Steve Harrington was suicidal.

King Steve Harrington had problems.

Steve Harrington was a scared little boy, hardly a man, and oh how fun that is to laugh at.

Who would miss him? Well and truly miss him?

At eighteen? Dustin. Maybe Nancy. Maybe even Jonathan. They’d would’ve gotten over it, wouldn’t they have? Poor Steve Harrington, the ex and the babysitter. At fifteen? Just Tommy and Carol. He always imagined it, people like Barb and Nancy and Robin and Eddie, all of them adrift by the news, but later getting over it. Just a ‘who cares’ thrown over their shoulder, a ‘good riddance’ in the back of their mind they’d never admit to. At twelve? Bobby in the A/V club, who always welcomed Steve with a gap-toothed grin and his wide bright eyes, making sure there was always space for his confused questions. The kid that some time later, Steve watched get his head swirled in a toilet, laughing at how he sputtered. At eight? His mom. She would’ve been inconsolable. Though, she would be young enough, maybe she could’ve tried again.

Now, though?

There’s…there’s too many people to even name.

God, way too many people.

He was staying for them, never himself. Got a best friend and a few pseudo siblings, his adopted dads in Hopper and Wayne…and he’s got a boyfriend that nobody knows about. He’s got everything.

Why is he still here? With the knife in his hand? In the cold? Frostbitten and scared?

Underneath all the scars, the anger, the hair, he’ll always be that scared little boy. The little boy afraid of his dad—the monster he lives with. Of drunk hands and slurred words, cigar smoke and stale dinners, wooden paddles and leather belts. He’ll always be the little boy that cried in his knees, hidden in the depth of his closet, under tens of old clothes, hanging on for dear life. Always be the kid that called his best friend, Tommy, when things went to shit. Phone cradled to his ringing ear, a slap still stern across his cheek, and needing instructions from Tommy’s parents on how to use a first aid kit.

He’s gotten better at discerning what he needs from the kit. Not because of alternate dimension beings, though. No, due to the monster that sits at his dining table, sipping Jack with glazed eyes and sorrowed brows, angry veins and angrier words. Asshole.

Steve was scared. Vulnerable. Soft-bellied. And he was small, despite being so big, he was always smaller than he showed. Any sign of himself—this true self, squirmy and squeamish and small—that would be it. He didn’t want to be known. Didn’t want to be found out.

But then, here he was, holding the knife.

Distantly, he hears the slow jog of heavy steps. He has the wherewithal to recognize he should stow away the knife, deep in his pocket where nobody can see. Though, as it glistens and blinks—mesmerizing him—he leaves it wide open.

This isn’t the first time he’s been here.

It needs to be his last.

“Stevie!” Tommy shouts somewhere on his left. Steve’s head swivels to the sound of his own nickname. Jogging up one of the clearer snow paths, Tommy’s making quick work of getting to him. He’s in heavier clothes than Steve is: a beat-up Carhartt jacket, thick and long jeans, brown work boots, a tartan red scarf wrapped messily on his neck, mittens, and a beanie with a big pom-pom on the top. As he gets closer, Steve can hear his heavy breathing, see the puffs that emanate from the frigid air. Still got that boyish way to him. A million freckles, those soft brown eyes, his pearly white teeth. The first boy Steve ever thought to kiss; the first and last boy to break his heart. “Steve,” Tommy murmurs now that he’s close, “hey…hey, I found you.”

He can’t move from his spot on the bench. It’s cold. His bottom aches from the chill of the wood, but he can’t make himself get up. Legs like lead. That knife still heavy. And he might cry if he speaks right now.

Tommy can see him. Truly see him.

For the first time.

Steve can catch the exact moment Tommy spots the unsheathed, flipped open knife. His eyes widen a fraction, eyebrows shooting up to the edge of his hat, his light smile fading into the paleness of his cheeks. He stutters in his settling, standing frozen to the spot. Like he became one with the slick ice. He’d do something like laugh at the expression, but again, it may just catch like a sob.

“You…you have a knife,” Tommy dumbly points out. His eyes dart away from the blade, though. He’s forcing himself to not look. To ignore it. Setting his focus on Steve’s face instead. “Your lips,” he whispers, “what’re you doin’ out here without a scarf? And your gloves and coat and…you need to be warm.” With great speed, the same quickness Steve used to see on the high school’s track, Tommy is unwrapping the scarf from around his neck. Gently, he tucks it on Steve’s, forcing it to sit tight against his going blue lips. Then, he’s tugging off his jacket, slipping Steve’s left arm through one of the sleeves. But by the time he makes it to the right—“Stevie, can I…I need to take the knife from you, okay? I need to get you warm.”

He can’t move his hand.

But his eyes stay on Tommy’s. Big on his sunken face, burning hot with fresh tears, chin wobbling. He can’t even ask.

“I’m gonna take it,” Tommy gently says, “put it in my pocket, okay? Just for a little while.” Slow now, he reaches for the knife. When Steve doesn’t pull away, doesn’t even flinch, he takes it in his grip. It’s probably the only thing about him that’s warm, if the surprise on Tommy’s face says anything. But he ignores that, too. Simply folds it up—schtick!—and buries it deep in the front left pocket of his jeans. Just like that.

Like it was nothing.

The outline of its handle in Tommy’s pocket is something, though. Heavier than it seems.

Had it looked like that in Steve’s sweatpants? All weighted and obvious?

He pities himself—the fool.

Tommy continues to take care of him, though, one piece of clothing at a time. The jacket all zipped, mittens on Steve’s numb hands, beanie on his big head. And when he’s done, he steps back with a tight, light smile. “There,” he breathes, “all done.” He tucks the scarf tighter again, as if he can manifest it to be warmer. Then, softly, he takes Steve’s hands in his own, rubbing them with his palms. Forcing them to get warmer. “Can I get you to come with me to my car? Let me turn on the heater and warm you up?”

Steve blinks. The first thing he feels on his face since he finished sobbing on the phone—a single hottear. “Are you taking me home?” he asks, wobbly and so unusual, even for himself. It makes him sound like a little kid. A little, vulnerable, very afraid kid.

“No,” Tommy murmurs—simple—“I’m not. We are going to drive around for a few, so you get warmed up in the car, get you a gas station hot chocolate—which will taste and feel amazing right now—and then I’m going to take you wherever you want to go.” He pats Steve’s shoulders with both of his hands, almost like he’s reminding himself that Steve is still right there. To touch. Alive. “How’s that sound?”

He nods once. Then, he blinks and shakes his head. Nods. Shakes. “I’m sorry,” Steve whispers, muffled by the scarf, “I’m really sorry.”

“Hey, no, I don’t want an apology. No apologies allowed. I’m glad you called.” Tommy squeezes Steve’s shoulders, looking dead on. There’s something watery in his gaze now. He doesn’t let it fulfill. “I’m really glad you called, okay? Let’s go to the car to warm up. And if…if you want to talk about it, we’ll talk. My ears are yours and my lips are sealed, you know that.”

They make their way back one slow step at a time. Their arms are hooked like they’re on some winter wonderland walk date. It’s fucked sideways, completely fucked, but Steve smiles small behind his scarf anyway. Tommy’s trying to fill the silence, something about baseball and little league and coaching, but Steve’s too lost in the warmth seeping through his body. The heat that makes him feel truly like a dancing flame, alive.

He’s still bad enough to know that once tonight is through, wherever he ends up, he’ll be left bereft with the consequences of his own actions. Probably something about disappearing in the middle of the night from his dad, something worse if his mind’s eye isn’t playing tricks. A lot of people will have questions as to why they’re seeing Tommy Hagan around a lot more—wandering into the Family Video just to talk to Steve, swooping into their local diner just to grab some fries with a wave at Steve, hanging around the arcade just to catch Steve beating his own high score. Nobody has to know what happened tonight.

But if he doesn’t talk, eventually he’ll self-immolate. Implode.

Steve Harrington, 19, Found Dead in Ditch; does not sound appealing. It wouldn’t make sense, he’s a great driver. He’d make it look like an accident, though. He’s still too much of a live-wire for a million and one questions, let alone all the queues being dispersed among so many people.

He needs help, he knows that. How does he ask for it, though? Who’s going to be less judgmental when he finds the strength to ask? Or is it going to be just as he feared? Under a microscope, people poking and prodding, local town pariah for being so mentally unwell. It happened to Eddie’s mom.

Maybe he’d be the only one to truly grasp it.

The conversations that have to be had, though, are daunting. Less daunting, however, than the knife still stowed in Tommy’s pocket.

He’s just sat in the passenger seat, reclined the way he likes with the door shut behind him, when Tommy abruptly turns on the car and starts messing with the dials on his vents. Pointing every single one at Steve, cranking that heat up. His radio is on, too, playing a mixtape on low volume. It’s the one Steve made him in their freshman year—“Nowhere Man” by The Beatles is just starting.

“Rubber Soul?” Steve finds himself mumbling.

“Hm?” Tommy stops moving for a moment, seatbelt halfway to being buckled, darting his eyes to the radio. “Oh—yeah, yeah! Remember, you showed me this album? One of my favorites, man. Always liked this song the most…you put it on this tape twice just to make sure I heard it.” He smiles at Steve. Bright and happy, his eyes squinting and his freckles bunching. It’s always been a great smile.

It’s been a while since it was pointed at him.

He likes it.

Wishes these were better circumstances. That they had been better people. That they’d survived. Maybe if they both weren’t so conniving and embarrassing and crude. One day, he thinks he can forgive Tommy. Not now, not for a while.

Tonight, though, he can learn to thank him.

Maybe that in itself is forgiveness enough for Steve, but even then, it takes more than a few good years of near radio silence to pass them by.

“Let me just”—Tommy whispers, leaning in. He reaches for the seatbelt, stretching it across Steve’s rigid body, and safely clicks it into place. There’s a moment where he lingers, staring, darting his eyes over every minuscule part of Steve’s face. Up close, there are definitely unshed tears in Tommy’s stare, but he just smiles. Small and safe, just for them, he smiles again. He pulls back to his own seat, one hand on the steering wheel, the other hovering over the gearstick.—“there we go, all tucked away. Sorry if the jacket is a little tight, it was the only winter coat I could find, guess it’s getting up there in years.”

Steve blinks and settles his head deeper into the headrest. Exhausted, he doesn’t say anything else.

Tommy seems to allow it, pulling away from the curb and back onto the empty street. He’s going at a snail’s pace, most likely because he doesn’t have chains on his tires. But he keeps his focus on the road ahead, unlike the him of previous years. Sitting passenger in Steve’s car, talking directly at him, not sparing a glance out the window. Instead, he looks forward, occasionally squeezing the leather of his steering wheel tighter. His eyes are darting, though. Nervous. Scared.

They pass by a few dark houses. Some small stores.

And then the gas station is pulling into view, Tommy slowing to turn into the parking lot, putting it in park. He turns to Steve, eyes big and dark in the dim light of his car. “I’m gonna go in there and fetch a large hot chocolate for you. D’you want me to grab anything else?”

He shrugs.

“Hey,” Tommy murmurs, “let me take care of you for a little bit, okay? Drive you around, get you some things you need.” He reaches out, gently squeezes Steve’s left forearm. His thumb is tracing the seam of the jacket’s sleeve. “You hungry?”

“Yeah,” Steve whispers, “…maybe just some peanut butter cups?”

Tommy nods. “‘Course. Want some Reeses Pieces, too? I remember you liked those.”

“No, it’s okay. Shouldn’t put you out like that anyway.”

The fingers still resting on his forearm tighten. Squeezing so hard, Steve can feel the bite of his fingernails. “You aren’t putting me out, Stevie. It’s no big deal.”

Up close, he can make out the eye bags and dark circles under Tommy’s eyes. The tired fold of his smile. Laziness creeping back onto his face. Probably tired as hell.

“Just those things. Don’t need anything else, promise.”

For a brief, brief moment, Tommy remains rooted to his seat. Something flickers through his face. A shuttering shimmer of daylight, darkening in the edges the way a vignette photograph does. It’s not confusion or disbelief or anger. A sadness, maybe. A fear.

But then Tommy is heaving himself out of the car, keys still in the ignition, radio volume low, heaters pulling their weight.

Steve glances out the passenger side window. At the chainlink fence on the edges of this gas station parking lot, curled into itself and overgrown with wild weeds. Some needles are littered at the base of the fence—he wonders where those people are now. Were they looking for a little relief? Partying with the hard stuff for the sake of it? The thrill of it?

How many of them were like him?

How many were there?

His reflection is blinking in the glass of his window, peering out softly at the needles. What if there was only one? Just as young. Just as scared. With nobody there to pick them up, take them out of their head, be patient. Nobody, not even an old friend, not even a neighbor. He wonders if this person—this figment—was running from something. Feelings, responsibilities, the very thing they feared. Seeking shelter, semblance of a normal in the dark parking lot of their local gas station chain.

Maybe they made it out. Got away from their head in that manner. Maybe they see the needles, too. Putting themself in those shoes, some of them new, some of them dirty, some of them laced, some velcro. He hopes they got their peanut butter cups and hot chocolate. Hopes they got a soft ending; wherever they may have ended up; whoever they ended up being.

Glancing out the windshield, he spots Tommy looking back at him, as if checking to see if he’s still there. His stomach turns over, clenching hard at the reason why. The fact he put that worry there. Shit.

And then, finally, he gets a good catch of himself in his overhead mirror. There are barely any lights around that illuminate his face, just whatever shines outwards from within the little convenience store. His hair is tucked away in the beanie, not wild from the wind like he had been expecting. His cheeks are puffy, starting to redden with color, from the heat in the car. But his eyes.

Flat, pink, bloodshot, yet empty.

No wonder Tommy keeps looking at him. He put that worry there, in the absence of himself, he instilled that worry. The fear.

Tommy eventually comes back out, swinging into the car with a to-go carrier of hot chocolates, and a crinkling plastic bag in the crook of his left elbow. He settles in his seat, off loading the carrier to Steve, regaling him to divvying out the drinks. Once he’s in, buckled and warmed, he reaches for the ignition.

“Can we stay here for a minute?” Steve meekly asks.

All at once, Tommy stops in his tracks. Sitting back. “Y-yeah, dude, sure. Just figured you’d wanna see around first, give yourself some time to…to think, I guess.”

He hands off one of the hot chocolates when Tommy reaches out for it, saying in the process, “I feel like I’ve done enough thinking tonight. Enough for a lifetime.”

There’s a sharp inhale at that. “I get that,” Tommy murmurs, “seems like there’s a lot of empty time on my hands these days.”

Steve sniffs, takes a swig of his drink, hums unconsciously at the flavor. “What are you up to these days? ‘Sides saving my sorry, stupid ass.”

“You’re not stupid, Steve. Don’t say shit like that.” He’s momentarily frozen in his seat, as Tommy’s eyes ice over to him. “And I already told you, I’m glad you called me.”

“You were asleep. You could’ve told me that. I would’ve found somebody else.”

“I wanted to get you,” Tommy insists. “It doesn’t matter how much time or space or whatever other garbage is between us, if you call me, I’m gonna be there. Even if you need me to—fucking, I don’t know—tie your shoes or something.”

Steve traces the lid on his cup with the thick thumb of his mitten. Words caught splintered in his throat, dead.

At his silence, Tommy lets out a sad little sigh. And then he goes quiet for a moment, too.

The air isn’t exactly tense, but it isn’t pleasant either. Thick, heavy, and warm. Maybe it’s the heater vents, the million layers he was forced into, the hot chocolate in his hands. It’s not even a good hot chocolate—Wayne Munson is the king of that—but he can appreciate it for what it is. A chance to make sure that he isn’t going to collapse in on himself.

It’s an appeasement. In a way, he’s being convinced to stay.

“What would it take to show you that you’re worth caring for?” Tommy suddenly breaks through. “Because I…I know I was going to let you talk about it in your own time, but…Steve, I want to be there, but I can’t always be there. And I. I have to be honest, right?

“I’m always going to try and save you. I’ll always come to your side when you call me, even if it’s been months or, shit, even years. But what happens when the next time I’m out here in the cold, your toes are too far over the edge? What if I go to grab the back of your shirt and it rips in my grip? What if…what if you can’t be patient anymore?” He won’t look up from the lid of his cup. Won’t answer, not yet. Right, passes through his head, he’s right. You know he is. Tommy’s gaze is set on his face, shiny in his peripheral. “I love you with every piece of me, again, no matter what, I’m always gonna love you. Just…

“Steve, I’m worried one day I won’t reach you.

“Or that I’m gonna come across…that you won’t be there by the time I arrive,” he stresses, “and I don’t want any of that to happen. Seriously, whether you’re my best friend or fuckin’ best enemy or whatever, I still care about you. You were still my first friend, the first person outside of my family that I was hugging, my first camaraderie, and you were my first wake-up call.”

Finally, he drags his eyes up. Burning, heavy, aching, Steve blearily looks to Tommy. Caught up in the blur of his own vision, unable to see even two feet ahead of him. His whole everything aches. Every ember of his soul. The drip of his blood, rushing straight to his toes, up to his no longer numb fingers.

The world’s a fireplace around him, words sound like near deathbed confessions, and he can taste his stale breath cutting through the chocolate. He never did get his glass of water. Can’t believe he let his dad play into this. Into tonight.

“Tommy,” he chokes out. “I don’t…I don’t know what you want me”—

“Sorry,” Tommy whispers, “I’m sorry. That was a lot and all at once. I just care about you, man.” He reaches out, grabbing for Steve’s forearm once more. Fingers tense and tight in his jacket. “I’d hate to see you gone. You deserve to be here, to be cared for. Please, Steve, just let me care about you for tonight. Please.”

Bending forward, Steve places his hot chocolate in the cup holder closest to him. Having his ear closer to the speaker, he can hear “Nowhere Man” again—or what must be for the second time. Tommy was always trying to make Steve feel better, even if sometimes how he showed it seemed impossibly stupid; but maybe the song wasn’t purposefully put on the cassette twice, he has half a mind to realize, Tommy didn’t want him to feel dumb for what he did.

Slowly, he peels off his mittens, fingers sweating with anticipation to not be so damn hot. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Tommy begin to lurch forward, stop him, but Steve only works faster. Just so he can place the naked skin of his right palm over the back of Tommy’s. Their skin joins in a puddle of malleable warmth. And even further, the hand under his turns, palm now up, gripping tight to his fingers. He rests his head against the passenger window, looking out at the bottom of the fence again.

“I’m sorry,” Steve murmurs.

“Stop apologizing. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I”—

He’s silenced with an even tighter pressure to the tips of his fingers. So hard that he can feel the way Tommy’s wrist shakes with the force. “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m not asking for it. It’s not necessary.”

Steve nods against the window. Beanie pushing up, hair falling free against his forehead. “Okay,” he crackles.

Again, Tommy’s moving, his shirt rustling against the leather seat. But he’s closer, if the warmth of his shoulder bleeding into Steve’s says anything. “Hey”—he tugs their joined hands, Steve glances over—“you think you can talk to me? Tell me what happened?”

Shrugging, Steve sighs. “Just…what I said earlier. Trying to get some water, Dad’s in the kitchen starting shit. Guess I just…just pussy-ed out. Went running out the door.”

Tommy swallows hard. “Did he…”

“He tried to get his hands on me,” Steve admits quietly, confessing what Tommy already knew. “But he was so drunk, he swung and stumbled. Made it out of there with my hair still intact.” His shoulder hurts in this angle. But he doesn’t want to pull his hand away, not when it gets another squeeze, not when he earns Tommy’s thumb rubbing into his knuckles. “I think he’s waiting up on me,” he whispers, “I can feel him, even here in the car, standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the front door. Like he did when I had weed that one time…couldn’t lay on my back after what he did that night.”

“I hate him,” Tommy darkly murmurs. “I’d kill him if I wasn’t so much shorter than that fuckwad.”

Dryly, Steve snorts. Rolls his eyes. “You’d give him a swirly and his face would get all red from how angry he’d be. From humiliating him. We’d call ‘im cherry cheeks for a week. ’Til he caught on.”

In the reflection of his window, he can see Tommy nod in agreement, smug little smirk on his face. “Until he caught on.” He shifts again, shoulder melting into Steve’s. “And then you decided to go on a midnight walk…did he take your car keys or something?”

“I didn’t really think about the car, Tommy. I just went. It was a dumb thing to do. But, well, I don’t make good decisions,” he states bitterly.

“Well, you called me and now you’re here.”

Steve doesn’t say anything to that.

There’s a squeeze to his hand that has him looking over. “So…did you…were you planning on…”

He shakes his head. “Guess I grabbed the knife without thinking. Self-defense or something, I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Tommy mutters. And there he goes, squeezing at Steve’s fingers again. It’s nice, though. The contact, warmth, the reminder. He twists his head so that they’re looking straight on each other, even as his neck contorts uncomfortably. “I’m glad I got to the park when I did,” he murmurs, “the world wouldn’t be the same without you, Steve. It really, really wouldn’t.”

“You’re just saying that,” Steve mumbles.

“Hey, I mean it. Who else would be there to call your dad cherry cheeks? Tell him he looks like a big, ugly oaf?” He snorts at that, a smile itching to make itself known. Tommy nudges him, shakes him, smirks. “Also, dude, the world needs a little bit more light, don’t you think? Who else is gonna call me on my bullshit? Knock me upside the head to tell me how much of a bigoted turd I’m being. You keep the balance, you bring the laughter, you bring the warmth, man. Nothing would be the same if you just…”—poof!—“left,” he whispers.

“Think someday I’ll believe you.”

Tommy shrugs. “Someday is better than never. But you better. Because I’m right.”

“When have you ever been right about something?”

“Well, I may be kinda thick in the head…but when have I lied to you?”

“I don’t know, think I can think of a few…”

“Those were well meaning lies! Like for your birthday that one year! You almost saw me wrapping up that new pack of baseballs—no way in hell was I going to let your snooping little ass ruin the surprise I had been sweating over for hours!”

There’s a big fat smile on both their faces, mirrored in each other’s all too expressive eyes. Tommy’s alight, Steve’s finally full. The laughter they share trickles out into shaky, steadying breaths. And for a moment, things are just like normal. Another late night with his old best friend, kicking rocks and talking shit. A time before.

Oh so before.

Tommy nudges him again. “You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

Steve chuckles, shoulders jumping with it. “Sure, dude,” he sighs, “let’s get outta here.”

The hand in his lingers for a beat, then two, a third. It tenses, pressing deep into his knuckles. And retreats. Thrown into his lap is the crinkling plastic bag from the store. Inside are at least three packs of peanut butter cups—way more than he asked for.

He looks up at Tommy, ready to protest. Instead, he gets a wink. “Our secret, Stevie-boy, you peanut butter fiend.” And then they’re off, driving aimlessly on the empty streets of Hawkins.

As the sun begins to rise, coloring their cheeks with tangible warmth, snow beading on the sidewalk, brown wrappers tossed aside, Steve is somewhat content. Rustling with nerves, knowing full well that Tommy still has that knife. But he’s…relaxed, nerveless, almost free.

All without the pain. All without the task of planning. All without the fear of saying goodbye—Steve is free.

They wind down familiar roads. Until, eventually, Tommy cracks with a yawn.

“Getting tired?” Steve mumbles.

“Oh, I’ve been tired. It’s fine, though. I can be out a little bit longer.”

“Nah, you don’t gotta. Think I’m ready to hit they hay, dude.”

Tommy sniffs. Runs a hand over his mouth, lets it fall back down to his lap, hitting the handle of the knife with the hilt of his palm. “Where do you want me to take you, Stevie?”

“I…I have an idea. But, uh, you’ll promise to keep the secret to yourself?”

He shifts nervously, catching Tommy give him a confused little quirk. “As long as it’s not gonna hurt you, sure. What…this sounds big.”

Steve swallows, nods, squeezes his hands into fists until his nails just begin to bite. The passenger window is enticing. “Remember that one secret years and years ago? When, uh, when we were kinda tipsy and hanging out by the pool and it was just us and”—

“The kiss thing, right?”

He inhales sharply. “Yeah, the…the kiss thing.”

“You can talk to me, Steve. I’m an asshole, but I’m not Brutus, man. Not gonna betray you for spilling your guts.”

“You promise you’ll keep it to yourself?”

In the blink of an eye, Tommy is pulling over to the curb. Slow and careful like. Twisting in his seat to face Steve, he only swivels his head to follow suit. “My ears are yours and my lips are sealed, remember? Hell, you don’t even need to tell me if you think it’s not safe to do so.”

Steve nods, slowly, absorbing. “Um…I-I have a partner.”

“You have a boyfriend?” Tommy asks, voice dropped low like anybody within a 100 mile radius could hear them. It’s a startling question, but it’s a soft one nonetheless.

“Yeah…he…he’s really good at taking care of me, y’know. And we look out for each other. He tells me I can come to him any time, if I need anything…anything.”

“Is it okay if I know who it is? Or is that…”

“I mean, I figured you’ll need to know to take me there? But, uh, Eddie Munson? Forest Hills?”

Tommy’s eyebrows raise slightly. He blinks. Takes in a slow breath. Then, quietly, “At the far end of the park, right? Near those swings?”

“Um…y-yeah. Yeah, near the swings.” Without responding, Tommy turns towards the steering wheel, shifting gears, pulling away from the curb. He makes a U-turn, back the way towards Forest Hills. “Is that…you’re not gonna say anything, right? Please don’t say anything.”

“My lips are sealed,” Tommy repeats. “I’m just…little surprised, I guess. Not about—Not that you two are, like, gay and into each other or something. Just…you guys have things to talk about? Get along okay?”

“He’s crafty. So, sometimes, we’ll watch a game together—whatever’s on—and he’ll listen to me rant and cheer and stuff, ask me about the stats…usually, he sits next to me and paints or draws or whatever. We keep each other entertained.”

Tommy nods in his peripheral. “Good, that’s good. Does he know about your…your mom? Your dad?”

“You’re the only one who knows about my mom. Figured it didn’t matter to bring it up, I guess. I mean, Nancy might know, but…I don’t know. It’s not important.”

“‘Course it’s important, Steve. Her death kinda hit you sideways…in a lot of ways, actually. It’s good, y’know, to talk about that kinda stuff. Plus, well, I’m sure Eddie would understand, right?” Steve shrugs at that. Tommy must be able to see it. “You don’t know about his mom? That’s a conversation you guys should have, dude. That was pretty big, last I remember.”

“Why do you know that?”

“This kid was picking on Eddie back in high school. Picking on him about his mom. Think I gave that kid a black eye or two…what a shitty thing, shitting on somebody ‘cause their fucking parent died.” Tommy begins to slow on the road, blinker clicking as he signals turning into the Forest Hills drive. “But he’d understand, that’s all I’m saying. Plus, you need more people in your corner. More people to rely on. Not that—I mean, I love being there for you, dude. I just…it would be good.

“When my parents divorced, I relied on you, sure. But I had a few other people, too. Some teachers. Principal Higgins. Even Mrs. Byers…which kinda shocks me, considering how I treated her kid. Makes me feel sick thinking about that.”

Steve blinks, notices they’re outside Eddie’s trailer, parked next to his shit-box of a van. He gets a good look at Tommy’s side profile. Gently aged. “You grew up,” he states.

“Best fucking feeling in the world. Should’a followed in your footsteps, Stevie. Should’a quit being an asshole when it was time.”

“But you did eventually.”

Tommy gives a slow nod, unbuckling himself. “Yeah, well. There’s a time for everything.” He looks over to Steve. God, his big brown eyes look even bigger in the sunlight. Even gentler. Even sweeter. “Can I walk you up to the door?”

“I don’t know…Eddie might”—

“I kinda need to talk to him anyway. It’s important.”

“Yeah, okay…okay.”

By the time they make it up the steps, peanut butter cups stored deep in Steve’s pocket, Eddie’s already swinging the door open. There’s a look of apprehension on his face, darting his eyes between Steve and Tommy. A bite behind his lip that he’s very noticeably trying to hide away. “Stevie,” he greets softly, “what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Um…I…I had a bad night,” Steve quietly admits, “thought I’d come here, after Tommy helped me.”

The screen door opens wider. Eddie’s face goes soft, deeper. “Everything alright? Nobody’s hurt, are they?”

Steve swallows, shifts uneasily. “I don’t wanna talk about it right now, please. Just…can I hang out for a bit? Maybe nap?”

Eddie’s already placing a hand on the center of Steve’s back, ushering him in. “Of course, just go in and get comfortable, I’ll meet you inside in a second.”

As soon as he steps inside, the door shuts behind him. Muffled conversation is all he hears, retreating to Eddie’s room. In a matter of minutes, stuffy jacket taken off, he’s dozing.

——— “Alright, what’re you doing here?” Eddie asks, finally addressing Tommy.

In front of him, Tommy shifts uncomfortably. “Listen, I know you don’t trust me. I get it. But I…I just need to talk to you, okay? It’s about Steve.”

“If you’re here to talk shit on him after he was lookin’ like that, then you can take your sorry ass”—

“He called me, ‘bout a couple hours ago, sobbing on the phone. His dad’s being a real piece of work. Just a total shitbag, okay? And he called me from the park by his house, talking to me about his dad, and I couldn’t just leave him there. Kept zoning out on the phone, sobbing, I couldn’t just leave him there.” Tommy thrusts his hand into his pocket, producing a pocket knife from it.

Eddie startles back slightly, a half-step backwards. “Why do you”—

“I found him there, completely out of it on a bench, with this fucking knife in his hand. It was open. Like he was…and I took it from him, kept it from him. Took him around town for a bit, trying to get him not to spook, y’know?” The knife is warm, placed heavily in Eddie’s palm, fingers curling tight around it. “He was going to do it. If I hadn’t gotten there, if he had never called me…I don’t even want to think about it.

“But he told me that you guys take care of each other. And he told me that if he had something, he could go to you for it. I’m just. I’m worried, okay? I can’t always be there to save him, he needs more people in his corner—people who are not going to judge him—because I can’t fathom with”—Tommy’s voice wobbles, thickens—“with losing him. And I know you’d be absolutely wrecked, if what he told me ‘bout your relationship is true”—

“You know about us?”

“That’s not important,” Tommy emphasizes. “Just don’t let him get this, okay? Keep an eye on him. He needs it. I care about him, even if it doesn’t seem that way, I do. He was my whole world up until our junior year. If something happened to him—fuck—I don’t know what I’d do. I don’t know…I don’t…”

Eddie’s not used to people crying around him. The only people who have are, well, Wayne and Steve.

But Tommy’s shoulders shake, his whole back heaving. Each sob caught on a choked breath. His eyes squinting into themselves, skin going splotchy with the effort.

Without a care for image, Eddie is stepping forward again, wrapping Tommy in a tight hug.

He doesn’t get Steve and Tommy’s whole dynamic. Not at all. All he knows is that they had a falling out. But he gets it, calling on the past to try and ground the present, that’s something Eddie’s been doing his whole life. Nostalgia or something. Relying on the lucidity of memories to bring him back. But if Tommy says something’s bad, sobbing so bad he’s choking with it, then it’s something worth tucking away.

And with that knife heavy in Eddie’s hand, he sees what Tommy’s doing.

He understands it.

He fucking gets it.

“Sorry,” Tommy muffles into his shoulder, “shit, I’m sorry. The world wouldn’t be the fuckin’ same if he—god, shit—he’s too good to do shit like that.”

Eddie’s squeezing so tight his knuckles hurt. “I’ve got him,” he swears into Tommy’s hair, “I’m not letting him get away like this again. I promise, man, I fucking promise.”

“Be easy on him,” Tommy murmurs, “he’s easily spooked.”

“I know, fuck, I know.”

Tommy pats him on the back in that dude-bro way. And then he’s pulling away, wiping hastily at his eyes. “If you guys need anything, you can call me. I know I’m not the best person, but I can try. Fuck, for anybody in Steve’s life, I can try.”

Swallowing down his own wave of tears, Eddie nods. “You in the yellow pages?”

“Yup. Leonard Hagan’s residence. Think it’s somewhere in the 130s.”

“I’ll reach out. ‘Specially if I can’t get to him.”

“I got him some peanut butter cups. Works wonders with trying to get him to open up.”

There’s a small little smile on Tommy’s face, knowing and soft. Eddie chuckles airily. “Yeah, he’s a peanut butter goblin or something. Think he ate eighty percent of my last jar, honest to God.”

“He’ll do that to you. Think he still owes me at least three jars.” Tommy reaches out again, patting Eddie on the shoulder. “I’ll see you around, Eddie. Keep an eye on him for me, yeah?”

“Nothing else I’d rather do.”

☎️—————☎️

[samwhump]

a (very inexhaustive, wincest-heavy) sam whump reclist

@transfemmesam asked me for Sam whump recs a few days ago, and I've had other requests in the same vein before (I can't imagine why.../s) so I thought I would throw this together, since these authors deserve all of the love and support for their contributions to our li'l fandom corner.

like I mentioned in the title, this is not at all a comprehensive list; I have at least ~200 more fics in my to-read queue that could thematically fit here, but alas, I have stupid shit like a job and a body and a dog to take care of, so. I'm always happy to get recs along these lines, so if you notice anything important missing, hit me UP. (and don't take any omissions as any specific commentary by me -- it's likely I just haven't had the chance to read it yet, haha.)

disclaimers:

some (most, honestly) of these contain potentially triggering and dark content, including but not limited to rape/noncon, torture, and suicidal attempts & ideation. I have tried to note content warnings where applicable, and most of the works are hosted on ao3, so the tags should have most of the information you need to make an informed decision. that being said, tread with caution. all of the summaries provided are from the original author, with warnings added after by me.

the list is in alphabetical order and separated into wincest and gen categories. a lot of the gen is also focused on the sam & dean relationship, because...I am what I am. and what I am a sucker for these two dipshits. there is also a brief section at the end with a few fics that don't fit into either category.

gen

All That Goes Unspoken by amnesiawife:

A case forces Sam to confront something long kept buried. (Set nebulously in season 12.)

CW: discussions of past rape/noncon, victim blaming

Beneath the Trees 'verse by Lise (5 works total, starting with Beneath the Trees, Where Nobody Sees):

Sam doesn't go to Stanford. Everything goes downhill from there.

CW: suicidal ideation

a boy is a cage by ad_castra:

After expelling Gadreel from Sam's body, Dean thinks they're in the clear. If only they were that lucky. // S9 fic wherein Gadreel's grace causes some adverse side-effects in Sam's mind.

CW: past referenced rape/noncon, body horror

body of proof by Askance (doomcountry):

There are things Sam hasn't told his brother. They're all in the envelope laid on Dean's pillow.

CW: heavy discussion of past rape/noncon

break these bones 'til they're better by redskyatmorning:

After Sam’s torture at the hands of the British Men of Letters, the latest in a long string of violations, he is rescued by Dean and Mary – and forced to ponder his broken relationship with his own body. Months later, when Sam is resurrected and tormented by Lucifer yet again, Dean confronts Mary and Sam gets his revenge against the devil.

catching my death (staring out an open window) by ad_castra:

Sam gazes at the window, catches the faint pink hue tinting the sky. It’s so realistic - he could breathe in the fresh air if he were really here. ----- They got Sam out. Sometimes, just knowing that isn't enough.

CW: implied past rape/noncon

Death of Convenience by WilsonTheMoose:

It should have been easy. Wendigos are no joke but daylight slows them. The weather's been unpredictable though and perfect, idyllic hunts don't exactly stay that way where they're concerned. Or Sam has one card to play and never stops to think that Dean would care if he killed himself.

CW: suicidal ideation, references to suicide

Echoes of Hell by The_Nightbreaker:

It wasn't real. He wasn't in Hell anymore. That's what he tried to tell himself over and over. But two centuries of torture don't disappear in a day. Sam struggles with visions of Hell, fighting to maintain his grip on reality. Dean hates that he can't protect his brother from what isn't real—but curse him if he doesn't try. When the boys stumble on a case with ties to the Devil himself, will they be able to pull themselves together in time to stop the sacrifices? Or will the echoes of Hell finally overtake them? Aka, season 7, but the plot is Hell trauma, not leviathans.

CW: suicidal ideation

Evening Shadows by withthekeyisking:

Sam is hallucinating the monster who tortured him for nearly two centuries, Dean feels like he's failing his brother, and a diner waitress bears witness.

CW: past rape/noncon

Everything Dies Given Time by Lise:

AU from 5.03. Sam discovers something wrong with himself, and learns to live with it. Only a lot less functional.

CW: suicide/temporary character death

The Freedom to Be Loud by jribbing:

It hadn’t occurred to Dean that maybe Sam remembered so much about that little nowhere town because something memorable had happened there.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

golgotha by redskyatmorning:

There’s a vacancy on the throne of hell, and Sam is desperate enough to save Dean from Michael’s possession to give into the abyssal depths of his own darkness.

Head Space by ameliacareful:

A witch curses Sam leaving him blind, deaf, and bedridden. Left with only the inside of his own head and the occasional touch, Sam begins to unravel.

CW: suicidal ideation

Hiraeth by inkandpaperqwerty:

(n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past "Dean... I made a really big mistake." For a second, Dean actually thought things were going okay. He was out of Hell, Sam agreed to stop drinking demon blood, they had just wrapped up a successful hunt... for once, everything was okay. And then it wasn't. "I overdosed." Not at all.

CW: suicide attempts, suicidal ideation

if i could leave (i would've already left) by serendipity0930:

“I have a mission from God for you,” the Angel whispers to the man. “It is time for you to do what you were born to.” The man’s face twists into a smile, delighted over being chosen by Him, a purpose from God digging into his heart, carving out a place to fester. “Hunt.” ... 05x03 AU where Zachariah is even more determined to keep the brothers apart and hunters are all too willing to take Lucifer's True Vessel off the board for good

CW: referenced suicide

It's A River (But Not In Egypt) by Lise:

He's still a liar. Maybe always has been.

CW: toxic Sam/Lucifer dynamics

Kindred Instruments by PinBitch:

They’re in a tug of war and Sam is the rope. He doesn’t need to be alive for that. OR Sam dies in detox, being flung against the walls of a metal box will do that to you. Dean and Ruby pick up the pieces.

CW: temporary main character death, permanent supporting character death

lazarus trick by katsidhe:

Sam's alive, so everything is gonna be okay. 13.22 coda.

Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence by Lise:

Sam's back. He's in one piece. That's the problem.

CW: self-harm

love is like ghosts by redskyatmorning:

I’m poison, Dean had said instead of I’m sorry. Well, Sam wants to say, what does that make me? What the hell does that make me? (A look into Sam's mind in the aftermath of the Gadreel possession.)

The Other Brother by RadioFriday:

Sam and Adam are pulled from the cage at the same time. Sam is not right, and Adam, stuck as his caretaker, is not pleased.

Oxygen by inkandpaperqwerty:

“Cas! Cas, please! Please, answer me! Cas!” Castiel ignores Dean for several minutes, but then Dean gives him an opening that might help him complete his mission. So, he goes to investigate, and what he finds is a very bloody, nearly dead Sam. Dean tells him where the injuries came from, and Castiel quickly becomes confused. It doesn't make sense, but Dean tries to explain it to him, and slowly... Castiel begins to understand.

CW: suicide attempt

Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc by AmberSock:

Sam waits, kneeling, for his execution. What if Dean hadn't missed?

CW: temporary character death

Safety In Distance by GalaxyThreads and SpiritClusters:

The Mark of Cain is a brand of violence. Sam was an idiot to think that he'd be exempt from it, just because he and Dean are siblings.

sometimes a kind of singing by adi_rotynd:

Sam gets cursed. They're dealing with it. Jack can see souls. That one they're not dealing with quite as well.

CW: past referenced rape/noncon

Soul Windows by GalaxyThreads and Spirit Clusters:

A few months after his birth, Jack learns how to see souls. Then he comes to a realization about the Winchester brothers, Sam in particular, and it's not a pleasant one. (gen)

Starry Night by keepcalmsmile:

Sam attempts suicide-by-monster. Dean tries to help. It sort of works...until it doesn't.

CW: suicide attempts, suicidal ideation

such fragile, broken things by The_Bookkeeper:

Sam wishes that Dean would just get it over with already.

The Tale of Sir Galahad by keepcalmsmile:

Sam once said he could never be clean like Sir Galahad. Dean assumed he was just talking about the demon blood. Turns out, Sam was talking about something else too. WARNING: Extended discussions of the aftermath of rape and childhood sexual abuse (but NO description of the actual events). Happy(ish) ending, but potentially very triggering.

CW: past rape/noncon, mentioned CSA

They Hammered in His Teeth by jribbing:

Sam has a secret.

CW: suicidal ideation

today's troubles (are history tomorrow) by a_good_soldier:

"It's not really something I know how to share," Sam had said. In which Dean figures he ought to help Sam out a bit.

Touch and Go by themegalosaurus:

Tag to 9.19 (Alex Annie Alexis Ann) in which Dean realises why, exactly, Sam is so angry about what happened with Gadreel.

trust fall by ad_castra:

“I’m nothing like you,” Sam hisses. Nevermind relating to the anguish of going it alone. Nevermind that he knows what it is to be strapped down and forcibly cleansed against his will. Sam wonders if these trials are purifying Crowley as well. 

Words Like Glass by broken_cinders:

Dean never figured the cage wouldn't leave a mark. He was prepared for memories, flashbacks, and nightmares. He wasn't expecting the words Sam brought back with him or the way they made him seem just a breath beyond Dean's reach.

Wound and Unwound by fascra:

Sam stops eating spring of his freshman year.

CW: eating disorder

wincest (dean/sam)

Brittle by thecapn:

Sam Winchester has an eating disorder.

CW: eating disorder

Don't You Cry No More by sixtysevenlmpala (schittyfic):

The first time Sam gets badly hurt on a hunt, he doesn’t cry. Dean does.

Fall On Your Knees by dollylux:

Sam doesn't quite make it home on the last day of school before winter break.

The Fall Will Probably Kill You by killabeez:

Set between 7.04 and the aftermath of 7.07. Dean is not as okay as he'd like you to think. Neither is Sam.

CW: self-harm

Feels so good to feel again by Trojie:

The pain keeps Lucifer at bay, at least to start with.

Follow In Your Form by withthekeyisking:

Sam is hallucinating Lucifer in the wake of Cas bringing his Hell Wall crashing down. To make matters worse, it seems like this has his dormant powers flaring back to life.

Last Temptation by merle_p:

Sam is running a fever again, the kind of fever no Ibuprofen or cold compress will bring down, the kind of fever that is eating him up alive, eviscerating him from the inside. He is too hot and too cold and too pale, delirious and shaking, resonating with whatever divine energy the trials are subjecting him to, and Dean is not sure how much longer he can stand to see him be in this state. Because Sam is quite possibly dying, and there is nothing Dean can do to stop it. Because Sam is dying, and he just. Won’t. Shut. Up.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

leeches by Anonymous:

Sam discovers a spell to make everybody forget him. He’s convinced it’s for the best. Pre-Stanford.

CW: attempted kidnapping/torture

Make Thick My Blood by themegalosaurus:

“You’re going to kill me, Dean,” Sam says, eventually. And all Dean can say is, “I think I am.” A season 10 AU, set after 10x14 ('The Executioner's Song'). Cas finds a solution that might cure the Mark of Cain; but if they're going to go through with it, Sam has a terrible price to pay.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

Prophecy of an Abomination by ashitanoyuki:

Sam is kidnapped by fanatically religious hunters and crucified. Coming back from this won't be easy. Canon-divergent from midway through season 2.

Recall by De_Nugis:

Sam's having a hard time telling what's real and what isn't, especially when it comes to some voicemails from Dean.

The Room Upstairs by brokenlittleboy:

Sam comes back from hell, but he’s inside-out and all wrong, and Dean can’t fix him.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

Ruin You (and its companion fic Worth) by Mumble_Bee:

Cole fucks Sam with Demon!Dean watching from a devil's trap, snarling that anyone would dare touch what was his. “I told you I don’t care what you do to his face or his blood or his fucking nose,” Dean growled, “but you put your dick anywhere near him and I will end you.” “Better hurry up then, Dean, because I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

CW: explicit rape/noncon

Snowed In by HelloStarlingFics:

When working a case, Sam and Dean get stuck out in a shack in the woods when the snow comes in hard and fast. Trouble is, Sam’s hated the cold ever since the Cage. Time for Dean to step up and look after him.

Wake by minchout:

Gadreel has had Sam for four years, and Dean, lost in guilt and obsessed with finding a way to get his brother back, has isolated himself in a cabin in the Missouri Ozarks with nothing but the woods, a stray dog, some chickens, and all the books the Men of Letters had to offer to keep him company. Then Sam shows up one day without his passenger, and Dean learns quickly that it doesn't matter that Sam is with him again - there is still a lot of work to be done before they can find their way back to each other.

Wanting to Forget by morganaDW (morgana07):

1-shot. S1 fic. After getting Sam freed from the Benders Dean thinks all he has to cope with is some bruises and cuts. He learns quickly just how wrong he is when Sam wakes up with a nightmare, reliving his brief but bad captivity in every detail. Sam just wants to forget & Dean has to try to get him to let him help. Will one night of cruelty and pain ruin what’s been formed between them?

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

when I wake up I'm afraid, somebody else might take my place by quake_quiver:

Sam doesn’t remember the last time he cried for Dean like he did that night. And now it’s been…two weeks. Maybe more. Sam is tired, and in pain, and starting to doubt that Dean’s going to show up. He’s weak and shaking from a combination of constant pain and hunger. Sam longs for Dean. Dean would make it better. Dean would fix it.

CW: rape/noncon, body horror

Wire Inside Me by merle_p:

There are a lot of things Sam hates about his current condition, to the point where he sometimes feels for the gun under his pillow at night, blindly toys with the safety, imagines pressing the muzzle into the underside of his chin and pulling the trigger just to make it stop. But there’s nothing he hates as much as the shadows he sees in Dean’s eyes whenever his brother is looking at him these days. It’s not an expression he remembers ever seeing before, but Sam thinks it’s probably something like revulsion. Horror. Disgust. What else could it be.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon, body horror, forced pregnancy

Worth (and its companion fic Ruin You) by Mumble_Bee:

Episode 10x01 "Black" where Dean is a human, and very, very, pissed off to hear someone has hands on his brother. “It’s nothing personal,” Cole whispered into Sam's ear, too quietly for Dean to hear, “but I need to kill your brother, and I need him off his game when he gets here. I don’t wanna hurt you, kid, but I’m going to, anyway. I’m going to hurt you a lot."

CW: explicit rape/noncon

you'll never see us again by according2thelore:

Then finally, his eyes trail over to Dean. His pupils are pin-point thin, and his hair is straggling in his face so Dean can’t see most of what expression lies there. Sam usually wakes up from nightmares in one of three attitudes: confusion, fear, or calm. A scary, sense-prickling calm that Dean hates more than anything else. Resignation, almost. Or: Sam suffers from nightmares and touch starvation post-Cage. They do their best to deal.

other Sam/Lucifer noncon

Cage Fight (No Way To Do This Right) by Dyed_Red:

Sam’s visit to the cage is already going awry, but Dean’s one-man rescue ends up skidding it sideways into territory neither him or Sam are ready for. (Gratuitous episode scene re-write. If Cas hadn’t come till after, if he hadn’t been there yet when Dean ran down to the 'parole' cage after hearing Sam scream - how bad could it have got for the brothers before he made it?)

CW: graphic rape/noncon

Into Being by withthekeyisking:

When Sam wakes up in the cave on Apocalypse World after having been killed by vamps, it's not just to find Lucifer there with him. It's to find him in him.

CW: graphic rape/noncon, necrophilia, forced pregnancy

Reggie/Tim/Sam noncon

a pointless resistance for you by withthekeyisking:

Sam doesn't know how long he's been with Tim and Reggie by the time Dean shows up and tries to take him out of there. Long enough that's he's already lost one baby and is pregnant with the next. Long enough that this life is starting to feel like all he knows.

CW: graphic rape/noncon, forced pregnancy & miscarriage, victim blaming

screaming birds sound an awful lot like singing by withthekeyisking:

Sam has done his best to move past what Tim and Reggie did to him, pretending it never happened at all. But running into them again makes that very difficult—especially when Dean gets involved.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

Waste 'Em All by withthekeyisking:

When Tim and Reggie try to force the demon blood down Sam's throat, he spits it back out. He has no interest in being turned into their own personal attack dog. They don't...take it well.

CW: explicit rape/noncon

[obikinbb]

✨Doubt Thou The Stars Are Fire✨

Author: @usakostar Artist: @aberrantcreature

Word Count: 20,000 words Rating: Explicit Pairing(s): Obi-Wan Kenobi / Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader Archive and Content Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions of Violence Key Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Fantasy, Tragedy, Mystery, Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Mild Gore, Eye Trauma, Whump, Minor-character death, Murder, Kidnapping, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved, Angst, Loneliness, Force Dyad (Star Wars), Force Visions (Star Wars), Force Bond (Star Wars), Dreams and Nightmares, Sith Artifacts (Star Wars), Sith Magic & Rituals (Star Wars), Curses, The Dark Side of the Force (Star Wars), Implied/Referenced Torture, Drinking to Cope, Suicidal Thoughts, Descent into Madness, Unreliable Narrator, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, Original Character(s), Ambiguous/Open Ending

Summary: Anakin has been waiting for Obi-Wan for years, for him to come and end his torment.

The horror of it all, the absolute nightmare he’s been living, the devastation he’s visited upon the galaxy - Anakin has all but forgotten what life was like before he was forced to become a monster.

He is a dying star. And Obi-Wan Kenobi his last hope.

If only the man knew.

[Link to fic] [Link to art]

[wutheringmights]

Chapter 32: The Garden Party & The Fallen Idols Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Additional Tags: Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Alternate Universe, Character Study, War, world building, Trauma, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Political Intrigue, Found Family, Angst and Humor, Warriors is a very complicated person, Warriors also does not know Time is Mask, Warriors (Linked Universe)-centric, Canon-Typical Violence, Heavy Angst, Manipulation, Morally Ambiguous Character, Please read content warnings before each chapter, Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Physical Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, Power Imbalance, Implied/Referenced Torture, Blood and Injury, Disabled Character, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Implied/Referenced Suicide Summary: “You are going to hear a lot of terrible things about me. Most of it is going to be true.” Being the hero who saved Hyrule from a bloody war was a thankless job that left Warriors with more regrets than he cared to remember. He only started to heal after meeting his fellow heroes from across time and joining them on their quest to defeat the black-blooded monsters. But when his time-hopping journey takes him back home, he finds his kingdom on the brink of war once more. This war threatens to ensnare not only Warriors, but his newfound family as well. Warriors will do whatever it takes to keep them safe, even if that means becoming a traitor to the kingdom he gave up everything to save. But the harder Warriors works to protect his family, the more the secrets of his dark past come to life. Who is Captain Link Walton, the Hero of Warriors? What happened to the two other heroes he had once fought alongside all those years ago? When this is over, will Warriors even have a family left to save or is he doomed to repeat his past mistakes? (Once, there were three brothers: the captain, the engineer, and the child. Their story did not have a happy ending.)

I noticed that it was looking a little happy around here, which means it's time to thrust my bullshit back uponth the people.

I am so sorry this chapter is coming very late at night. As before mentioned, I ran behind schedule and started editing very late. I also was not able to reply to all the comments from the last chapter like I intended to (but I swear I will get to that tomorrow!).

This is a very long chapter. 46k words. A lot happens, and I suggest you prepare yourself for it accordingly. As always, I hope you enjoy.

On this chapter of the story that is just keeps on going and going:

Link and Proxi's peaceful life is interrupted by a very noisy child

In the aftermath of a tragic death, Warriors struggles to plot his next move in an increasingly fraught political atmosphere

Warriors swears an oath

🛡⚔Read It Now on AO3⚔🛡

[horriblegoosefest]

A Design For Life

By: @Maesterchill Paring(s): Drarry Rating: E Word Count: 76,887 Warnings/Content: Implied/referenced sexual assault, terrorist attack, implied/referenced monsterfucking Goose:

Tags:

enemies to lovers, time travel, hogwarts eighth year, post-hogwarts, depressed Harry Potter, magical accidents, drinking games, talismans, magical empathy perfume, potions, sex pollen, implied/referenced terrorism, doppelganger, the ministry of magic is corrupt (Harry Potter), auror corruption (Harry Potter), safehouses, captivity, prison, implied/referenced sexual assault, terrorist attack, minor character death, drugs, drug addiction, coma, magical theory (Harry Potter), magical artifacts, ley lines, magaliths, road trip, ireland, boat trip, Gilderoy Lockhart the self insert writer, Pebble Potter (OC), minor Draco Malfoy/Gregory Goyle, Greg Goyle is good at sharing, implied/referenced monsterfucking, bathing/washing, adventure, mystery, on the run, runes, rituals, race against time, wanking, sex, ancient magic, getting together, brief suicidal thoughts, angst and fluff and smut, angst with a happy ending

Summary:

Harry Potter doesn't want to become an Auror. And Draco Malfoy would quite like to stay alive and out of harm’s way. Neither have any desire whatsoever to time-travel into the future, especially not with each other. But fate? Well, she has other plans.

A honk of appreciation from goose @citrusses:

You are not prepared for this time-traveling, mind-bending romance from the incredible Maesterchill! This is a fast-paced fic fueled by page-turning* (*browser-scrolling) action that still finds time to be packed with humour, scorching sex, and incredible character development. Harry's narration is pitch-perfect: the way he feels about Draco evolves from such a wonderfully prickly resentment (not to mention finding him frustratingly gorgeous) to something absolutely soul-consuming. I had such a wonderful time watching Maester build this magnum opus, and I am so excited for the rest of you to experience it!

[futuremrscameron]

❀˖°bahamian!reader❀˖°

content warnings: suicidal ideation, (accidental) shooting, symptoms of mental illness, sexual content, implied/referenced violence, major spoilers for outer banks s1-3

[heartholds]

i loved you, i wore you out | robby/collins (the pitt)

Only half-thinking, Heather touched his face, smoothed the pad of her thumb over his cheekbone, and Robby sucked in a shaky breath. “I want to kiss you,” he said, then, his voice rough, and Heather felt desire shoot through her, heat piercing her gut. He leaned closer, and she didn’t move and he said, “I want to, I want to—” practically a whisper, his lips inches from hers. She could taste him, could close her eyes and feel it, his mouth still as familiar to her as her own.

“Not a good idea,” Heather said, even as something low and urgent in her body yanked her closer to him, like a rope, a lasso. Her hand moved to below Robby’s jaw and she felt his heartbeat at his carotid, a fast, heavy throb under her fingertips.

“Stop taking my pulse, Dr. Collins.” The words came out soft, a joke without the cadence of one, and then he was pressing his lips to her neck, just below her ear.

read on AO3.

18k words | chapter 2/4 (ongoing) | explicit

relationships: robby/collins, robby & abbot, robby & dana, collins & dana, collins & abbot, minor abbot/walsh

tags: angst, smut, romance, boss/employee relationship, not friends not lovers but a secret third thing, oral sex, vaginal sex, dirty talk, dry humping, thigh-riding, car sex, emotional hurt/comfort, grief, sharing a bed

content warnings: covid-19 pandemic, canonical character death, implied/reference abortion, implied/referenced miscarriage, suicidal ideation, panic attacks, implied/referenced gun violence, medical procedures

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Nov 6th

~*~

1. Hello! Thank you everyone and the admins for doing the great work 🥰

A - Itmf for fics where Wei Wuxian (or someone else) develops a talisman/curse or somehing that shows people's bio relations (maybe to prove he is not a Jiang/to prove the Jins evil/any other reason), and the use of such thing causes secrets and misdeeds of others to turn up. Any kind of chaotic or angsty energy and everyone in shock and trying to manage the damage of their secrets aired out for the audience.

I have no preference over whether Wei Ying turns out to a Wen/actually Jiang/anything else, but it would be great if he finds out he is not all alone in the world in means of blood and is accepted into someone's loving arms. The Lan family angst is cool, but please no Lan Xichen or Lan Zhan's bashing (But everyone else can have a field day)

B - As an alternative, just a modern AU with Wei Ying doing some kind of DNA testing to prove his relations and the concequences/reactions of others is also acceptable.

P.S. I have recently read All Things Belong by kuroi_atropos, amazing work, so i wanted to read something else in this field. Definitely recommend! @shellennium

1A)

❤️ And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 138k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together) it occurs in chapter 12. my suggestion for 1a fills the first half of the request, WWX doesn't discover any relatives though

Debts of a Child Part 2 by Hauntcats (M, 111k, WangXian, YZY Bashing, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Angst and Feels, lots of anger, JC Bashing, not Jiang friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Content warning for icky spiders in later chapters., hurt no comfort for Jiang siblings.)

Cuckold by ramber (M, <1k, Madam Jin/OMC)

Sunset, Sunrise by Ariana Deralte (ArianaDeralte) (T, 57k, WWX & WRH, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Crack, Temporary Character Death, sorry I killed a-Yuan for a few paragraphs before the time travel, WWX is a Wen, Genius WWX, WRH gets to rewatch the series as a treat, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, in this house we acknowledge that all the sects have flaws, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, WWX Has ADHD, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Autistic LWJ) (link in 8C)

~*~

2. hello! thank you for all the work you do. itmf: wangxian not returning to cloud recesses post-canon and them having a strained relationship with the lans that wwx IS NOT guilty about. no CQL please. bonus if sizhui leaves with them but not required

tails and scales series by notsofluffyunicorn (E, 37k, WangXian, Fluff and Angst, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, LWJ Has Feelings, LWJ Needs a Hug, LWJ Leaves the Gusu Lan Sect, Hair Brushing, tail brushing, No World Building, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Autistic LWJ, Selectively Mute LWJ, because of anxiety, Healthy Communication, Soft WangXian, Married WangXian, Smut, A/B/O, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX,Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, tail pulling, Rough Sex, LWJ Has a Biting Kink, LWJ & WWX Have a Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Domestic Fluff, Mpreg, Pregnant WWX, Chronic Pain, Protective LWJ, Protective WWX, Canon Divergence, Gusu Lan Sect Bashing, slight LXC bashing, But that will get better in future stories, non-graphic birth, Introspection, Rimming, POV LWJ, POV WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, No Wen remnants, WangXian Are LSZ's Parents, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LWJ's 33 Lashes Punishment, No Thirteen Years of WWX's Death, WWX in WWX's Body, Parents WangXian, Shedding season) but it's an au so it doesn't exactly fit. They leave though and live their best lives

~*~

3. itmf fics where some combination of lwj-wwx-jc one killing the other, accidentally or otherwise.

ok if it includes mxy resurrecting wwx, or wwx raising lwj-jc as a corpse à la wen ning, but I’m not looking for this as a jumping off point for time travel or that kind of fix it. not bashing, I just want them to feel their feelings. bonus if jyl is alive in especially in a jc-wwx scenario.

💖 Regrets by antebunny (G, 37k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Time Travel, Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Explicit Descriptions of Love, and other squishy feelings, Angst with a Happy Ending) it's cql canon and uh LWJ accidentally stabs WWX in nightless city

~*~

4. Hi! I have an ITMF! Fics where WWX is treated poorly or cruelly in the Cloud Recesses after marrying LWJ, can be with him knowing or not (or even participating), post canon or not, and him (and maybe LSZ) being rescued by one of the Jiangs or Jin Ling (or even someone else). I don't mind AUs as long as it's not modern setting ones! Bonus points if it has Jiang Yanli in it :) Thanks!! @jiangclaritybell

Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending) it covers some of what you seek. Be prepared it's very angsty.

To Bring You Back Within My Reach by ablaiseofglory (M, 22k, WIP, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending, No dubious consent, Adopted Children, Kid Fic, A/B/O Dynamics, omega wwx, Alpha LWJ, Misunderstandings) to bring you back within my reach by ablaiseofglory. It's a WIP but it recently updated

~*~

5. in the mood for a fic where wangxian are VERY freak4freak or codependent… equally unhealthily obsessed w each other <3 @xinilia

truly a love story for the ages by sweetlolixo (E, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, Omegaverse, Dark LWJ, Dark WWX, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Dark!Wangxian, Power Couple, slight daddy kink, Crack, Pregnant WWX) but I'm not sure if the vibe truly fits, they are freak4freak

~*~

6. Hiii... for the next itmf post, please recommend some lengthy time travel fics. Please can it be newer fics (2023 / 2024) and fully completed fics. Wangxian pairing, of course. Thank you 😊 🙏

there are multiple in the Same Moon Shines series by sami

Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It)

🔒 Here With Me by iamwish (T, 58k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, wwx turns this into a no war!au, Canon-Typical Violence, Period-Typical Homophobia, Bad Parent YZY, POV WWX, POV LWJ, POV JC, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, WWX Has PTSD, and also depression sometimes, Unreliable Narrator, (all of them))

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 163k, WangXian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, musical cultivation, Slow Burn, Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Demonic Cultivation, POV WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Worldbuilding, No Yīn Iron, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Artist WWX, Musician WWX, Night Hunts, Fate & Destiny, Bad Parent JFM & YZY, Golden Core, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Father-Son Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Parent-Child Relationship, Angry WWX, Pining WWX, WWX is Not Okay, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Pining LWJ, POV LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell Wangxian, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love)

We’ll Build A Dynasty (one the heavens can’t shake) by One_eyed_God (T, 66k, WangXian, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, WWX & JYL, canon typical Jiang family dynamics, BAMF WWX, Canon JC Characteristics, POV Outsider, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, WWX is a Wen, Sect Leader WWX, Genius WWX, The Casual Intimacy of Hand-Holding, A Love Letter to WWX, Not JC Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It)

🔒Til Death Do Us Part by Thyone14 (Not Rated, 73k, WangXian, Time Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, WWX Needs a Hug, Protective LWJ, Soft WangXian, POV LWJ, POV Alternating, No Smut, POV WWX)

The Stranger Inside My Son by Mademoiselle_A (T, 73k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, But from an outsider's POV, JC is So Done, JFM's A+ parenting, YZY's A+ Parenting, Both are not great but this is not a bashing fic, JC-centric, But from JFM's POV lol, POV Outsider) is focused on Jiang Cheng but Wangxian do get together in it.

🔒if you can’t beat them, recruit them by moeblobmegane (T, 228k, Wangxian, NHS & WWX, WWX & WQ, Time Travel Fix-It, Conspiracy, Spies & Secret Agents, Team as Family, Found Family, Burial Mounds, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Pining, Morally Ambiguous Character, Rumors, Politics, Developing Friendships, Good Uncle LQR, Demonic Cultivation, YilingWei Sect)

💖 The Echoes of that News Ring Loud by Scarlet_Gryphon (T, 111k, NHS & NMJ, 3zun, sangning, wangxian, time travel, fix-it, nie wwx, happy ending)

Moments of Revelation by meyari (T, 133k, ChengSang, WangXian, XiYao, POV JC, Canon Divergence, Temporary Character Death, Character Death, not anyone we care about, Time Travel Fix-It, Self-Sacrifice, Torture, Chronic Pain, Chronic anxiety, Grief/Mourning, PTSD, Chronic Mental Health Issues, Assassination, renamed MY, Families of Choice, Unreliable Narrator(s), Demonic Possession) Plus others by the same author

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Getting Together, First Time, Pining while fucking, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Angst with a Happy Ending, CQL Verse, almost everybody lives/almost nobody dies, epistolary-ish, canon-ish side pairings, radishes) is my fav time travel long fic but it was late 2022 so it doesn't exactly match the newer fics (2023 / 2024) qualification.

~*~

7. ITMF fics where wwx gets a different title? Like in “dispersing clouds” or “flowers blooming” he has a different title than YL - if there’s smut, no b!lwj, and ideally nothing cql compliant (but donghua/novel/audio drama/manhua/etc is fine) @lovelyiknow

Just go forward like you mean it by tawaen (M, 101k, WangXian, WWX & WN &WQ, WWX & JYL, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, WWx does not attend the Wen indoctrination, WWX saves Lotus Pier, Inventor WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, Sect Leader JYL, JC Has No Golden Core, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Not JC Friendly, but he gets a happier ending than canon so don’t look here for bashing)

🧡 All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, WangXIan, Canon Divergence, Fix It, Not Jiang Family Friendly, JFM & YZY Bashing, Fix it for our main characters, Time Travel, Butterfly Effect, Madam Lan Lives, No Sunshot Campaign, Artistic License, Unreliable Narrator, JC Bashing, non-yunmeng WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Good Uncle LQR, OOC, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX gets the love and care that he deserves from the very beginning, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiangs, verbal and physical (c/o Zidian) abuse from YZY) link in #8B

🔒💖 Resilience. by Vrishchika (T, 7k, WangXian, Time Travel, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Self-Indulgent)

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 163k, WangXian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, musical cultivation, Slow Burn, Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Demonic Cultivation, POV WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Worldbuilding, No Yīn Iron, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Artist WWX, Musician WWX, Night Hunts, Fate & Destiny, Bad Parent JFM & YZY, Golden Core, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Father-Son Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Parent-Child Relationship, Angry WWX, Pining WWX, WWX is Not Okay, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Pining LWJ, POV LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell Wangxian, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love) link in #6

💙🔒 Away from Trouble by Ilona22 (M, 15k, WangXian, Not JC Friendly, LWJ/WWX Get a Happy Ending)

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, What if WWX saw the first siege of the burial mounds and said Nope to the war, OCs, OC point-of-view for one chapter for plot reasons)

Take Responsibility by draechaeli (E, 187k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Mainly Novel with a few CQL and Donghua bits, Everybody Lives, Original Children Characters, Adoption, Adoption but WWX birthed them all, Mpreg, Teen Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Male Lactation, Lactation Kink, Consensual Non-Consent, Light Bondage, Pregnant Sex, easy to skip nsfw chapters, Fix-It, Happy Ending)

🧡 the river brought you here by chilianxianzi (Not Rated, 11k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, POV Outsider, Amnesia, Past abuse, Strangulation, Found Family)

Trials of Time by Muggle_Diary (E, 32k, wangxian, major character death, underage, time travel, not jiang friendly, not YZY friendly, not JC friendly, butterfly effect)

To Sizhui by countingcr0ws (E, 21k, WangXian, Librarian LWJ, Mistaken Identity, Requited Love, Mental Link, Soul Bond, Genius WWX, Romance, Fluff, Banter, Epistolary, Love Poems, Footnotes, Smut, Laughter During Sex, Cultivation Sect Politics, Canon Divergence, Love Letters)

~*~

8. I'm looking for fics where A) YZY does sever WWX hand and things still go bad for YMJ (no cql characterization please, I don't like JC, so novel canon please) , B) Madam Lan lives (her best life and if the Wei couple is alive too - amazing), C) the two Nie Furen - any fics that talk or have any of them live, D) WWX (and maybe LWJ) raises a daughter or interacts with his grandchildren. Thank you! @secretartquotes

8A)

💖 Love made visible by Moominmammashandbag (M, JYL/ZZL, wangxian, hurt/Comfort, amputation, major character injury, sibling love, angst w happy ending, cooking as cultivation, attempted rape/non-con, sexual assault, minor character death, family angst, dysfunctional family, protective siblings, near drowning, amnesia)

8B)

in stillness, clear water to the bottom by Stratisphyre (T, 40k, CSSR/WCZ/LQR, LQR & Madam Lan, CSSR & LQR, LQR & WWX, Sect Leader Nie/NHS's Mother/NMJ's Mother, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Threesome - M/M/F, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Everyone lives, (mostly), (not you qingheng-jun), Family feelings, Madam Lan lives, references to past rape)

The Dreams of Youth by sami (E, 86k, wangxian, time travel, fix-it, family, not lan sect friendly, canon typical violence & gore, childhood friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, mothers who live, some people live/not everyone dies)

Sail Away Sweet Sister by sami (M, 73k, WangXian, YZY/CSSR/MDM Lan, MingLi, Time Travel, EXTREME Canon Divergence, Wide Focus Narrative, Some People Live/Not Everyone Dies, Most Named/Canon Characters Live, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Families of Choice, Parenthood, this work contains a major tonal shift, Fluff, Angst, Underage Sex, not particularly explicit, but not at all ambiguous, PTSD, Only a tiny bit, Unforeseeable consequences, The butterfly effect, Slightly Dark JYL, Asexual Characters, but that’s not really the focus, Canon-Typical Violence)

🧡 All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, WangXIan, Canon Divergence, Fix It, Not Jiang Family Friendly, JFM & YZY Bashing, Fix it for our main characters, Time Travel, Butterfly Effect, Madam Lan Lives, No Sunshot Campaign, Artistic License, Unreliable Narrator, JC Bashing, non-yunmeng WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Good Uncle LQR, OOC, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX gets the love and care that he deserves from the very beginning, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiangs, verbal and physical (c/o Zidian) abuse from YZY)

💖 An Unexpected Visitor by Hauntcats (G, 8k, QHJ/Madam Lan, wangxian, fix-it of sorts, not Jiang friendly, not jin friendly, happy ending)

Every Mother’s Son by Chrononautical (T, 11k, WangXian, Madam Lán Lives, Madam Lán Deserves Better, Madam Lán Leaves Cloud Recesses, Madam Lan rescues women from abusive husbands in feudal Japan and honestly that’s so valid of her, mentions of rape/non-con between Madam Lan & Qingheng-Jun)

no step had trodden black by Stratisphyre (T, 32k, wangxian, LQR & WWX, JYL/JZX, canon divergence, madam lan lives, past rape, golden core reveal, hurt/Comfort, referenced to attempted suicide & suicidal thoughts, canon-typical violence)

8C)

Sunset, Sunrise by Ariana Deralte (ArianaDeralte) (T, 57k, WWX & WRH, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Crack, Temporary Character Death, sorry I killed a-Yuan for a few paragraphs before the time travel, WWX is a Wen, Genius WWX, WRH gets to rewatch the series as a treat, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, in this house we acknowledge that all the sects have flaws, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, WWX Has ADHD, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Autistic LWJ)

in stillness, clear water to the bottom by Stratisphyre (T, 40k, CSSR/WCZ/LQR, LQR & Madam Lan, CSSR & LQR, LQR & WWX, Sect Leader Nie/NHS's Mother/NMJ's Mother, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Threesome - M/M/F, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Everyone lives, (mostly), (not you qingheng-jun), Family feelings, Madam Lan lives, references to past rape) link in #8B

8D)

Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste (T, 36k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Adoption, Family Fluff, Kid fic, Family drama, Fluff, 🔒[PODFIC] Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste by lunatique)

🔒 Little Stars by Aki_no_hikari (G, 4k, WangXian, Family Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Canon Divergence, Yílíng Wèi Sect)

The Trouble With Politics: a Treatise on Jiang Sect Deputies Gone Rogue by Sect Leader Wei Wuxian by stiltonbasket (G, 56k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Yílíng Wèi Sect, or: the one where yu   zhenhong is a wild card, Smitten LWJ, Domestic Fluff, Politics, Happy Ending, Sect Leader WWX, Fix-It of Sorts, JZX still dies though)

Where the Lonely Ones Go by CSHfic & VSfic (T, 24k, WangXian, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Case Fic, Night Hunts Fluff, Established Relationship, Mystery, Married Life, Domestic Fluff, Haunting, Kid Fic, Post-Canon, gratuitous use of empathy)

❤️ Seen and not heard by eatmyass (E, 51k, wangxian, case fic, no sunshot, kid fic, dadxian, strangers to lovers, found family, LWJ pov, pining, fake/pretend relationship, first time, falling in love) Wei Wuxian hasn't yet adopted the children in Seen and not heard but this fic shows him protecting and teaching children.

in a river you wade by bleuett (M, 20k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Mpreg, Postpartum Depression, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Good Uncle LQR, Family Feels, Happy Ending, Kid Fic) In "in a river you wade," Lan Wangji gets pregnant with Wei Wuxian's child so we see Lan Wangji raising their daughter after Wei Wuxian's death.

~*~

9. Itmf / fic finder, idk which one to categorise it as hah-

So do we have any Hogwarts au of mdzs where wwx is ofcourse Harry, lqr is snape, Wei - sanren couple are james n lily, someone is voldy, lwj is maybe in Slytherin???? I want this fic or fics like this please! @constellationdks

How to save your school with your Best Friend by Lan_tiger (T, 30k, WangXian, XiYao, Harry Potter Setting, Modified Chamber of Secrets plot, Everyone Is Alive, Including canonically dead parents, Everyone has parents, Chinese magical school, Mostly comedy with some mystery, gryffindor! wwx, ravenclaw! lwj)

Grandmaster of the Magical Arts Series by HollowNightmare (T, 420k, WangXian, Harry Potter Setting, Chinese Hogwarts?, Slice of Life, Developing Friendships, POV Alternating, lwj is an anxious bean, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst) although Wei Wuxian is a Slytherin in this one.

~*~

10. itmf fics where the golden core reveal happens in front of everyone?

doesn’t necessarily have to be everyone but at least a group of people? thank you for your help!

A Child’s Wish by Hauntcats (Not rated, 13k, wangxian, WWX & Wen remnants, Celestial meddling, Not JC Friendly, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone gets what they deserve, Age Regression/De-Aging, Child LWJ)

Field Trips with Wei Wuxian by antebunny (G, 42k, WangXian, WQ & WWX, NMJ & WWX, JZX & WWX, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Found Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, protective Jiang siblings, Unreliable Narrator, due to WWX assuming ppl hate him, JYL is gonna dropkick her baby bro into having friends)

just because it’s what i am by kokozy (G, 4k, wangxian, Thirteen Years of WWX’s Death, Ghost WWX, Song: Inquiry, Truth comes to light, Revelations, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Angst, Sad with a Happy Ending)

seldom all they seem by Fahye (E, 25k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, or rather Arranged Betrothal, followed by Weapons-Grade Thirst)

The most dangerous thing is to love by KatAnni (E, 113k, WangXian, Golden Core Reveal, Fix-It, Everybody Lives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Hurt!WWX, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Torture, POV Multiple, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, Panic Attacks, PTSD, Golden Core Transfer, Golden Core Transfer Fix-it, Medical Procedures, Fainting, Major Character Injury, Blood and Injury, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Asexual JC, homophobia doesn’t exist here, Marriage Proposal, Marriage, Wedding Night, Whump)

~*~

11. For itmf- there has to be a wangxian wicked au right? It’s impossible that there isn’t

Grandmaster of Wicked Cultivation by ellienchanted, evilhobbitqueen, nx_for_short, planta_genista, westiec, zylaa (G, 6k, WangXian, Filk, musical theatre, wicked the musical, with apologies to Schwartz and Holzman, Sing along!, Canonical Character Death, Canon Temporary Character Death, Art, Podfic Available, Recording Available for Some Songs!)

No Good For The Wicked by drawifubmen (Not Rated, 2k, WIP, WangXian, Inspired by Wicked, Kinda, inspired by mdzs defying gravity animatic, wwx is a witch, they were roommates, Unreliable Narrator, POV Third Person Omniscient, Wizard of Oz References, Wizard of Oz Fusion, References to Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Star-crossed, Canonical Character Death, Canon Divergence) which is a WIP that recently began.

~*~

12. I've got an ITMF request, if you lovely people would be so kind. I've been reading and enjoying "all the lies on your resume" by someitems, and I was wondering if anyone has suggestions for other modern AUs where the golden core transfer is shown as chronic illness. It could be an actual golden core transfer (or partial transfer or golden core loss or whatever) in a modern with cultivation AU or an analogy for Golden Core transfer in a modern AU without magic, whatever. The important thing is that the loss of his golden core or equivalent leaves WWX with chronic illness of some kind (chronic fatigue, or chronic headaches, or needing to be careful about doing normal things so he doesn't get sick, or anything chronic illness can do). No Jiang Cheng or Jiang Yanli bashing please! Thank you mods and fic finder community! @flamingwell

silt, or scurvy series by astronicht (M, 11k, wangxian, modern w/ magic, chronic illness, Podfic: The Silt or Scurvy Series by raitala) the "silt, or scurvy" series by astronicht shows a couple of small moments in a modern wwx's life as he struggles post loss of core

~*~

13. Hello, itmf

I wonder if anyone wrote the scene where lan zhan says aloud to lan xichen or lan qiren that he is ashamed of them.

Thank you!

~*~

14. Hello again! I've been just wondering if anyone knows a fic where Wei Ying cultivates a womb? As apparently MXTX tweeted that it was possible for him? @lostandmessedup

Impermanence, Transience, Permanence by Best Bepsy (BepsyGray) (E, 39k, wangxian, canon divergence, unplanned pregnancy, mpreg, gore, sunshot campaign, assumed miscarriage, medical procedures, childbirth, golden core reveal) Wei Ying develops a spiritual womb through dual cultivation

~*~

15. itmf wangxian fics where wwx is not forced to reconcile with jc/ where jc is his book canon self @chellsky

Preparing the Soil by Rynne (T, 26k, WangXian, LQR & LWJ, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Family Issues, Family Conflict, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, Chinese Holidays, Chinese New Year, Birthdays, Good Kid LSZ, Meta Arguments, POV LWJ, Protective LWJ, Married WangXian, LWJ’s Birthday, LSZ’s Birthday, Soft WangXian, LWJ Has to Talk a Lot, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Gusu Lan Sect, Letting Go of Resentment, The WWX Rule, Good Sibling LXC, Improving Uncle LQR, Grappling with the Lans’ Part in the Siege, learning to be better, Music, LWJ is a Composer, LWJ Is Good at Communicating Actually, Not JC Friendly)

These Barren Lands In Between by lingering_song (T, 4k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Married WangXian, POV Outsider, Misunderstandings, Cultivation Sect Politics, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Not JC Friendly, No JC & WWX Reconciliation)

🔒 all i take with me by justdoityoufucker (orphan_account) (T, 2k, JL & WWX, Post-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, Canon JC Characteristics, Families of Choice, Night Hunts, Unhealthy Relationships, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Healing, no reconciliation, Non-Linear Narrative)

keeping score by hauntedotamatone (T, 6k, LSZ & WWX, Background WangXian, the opposite of reconciliation, Protective WWX, Duelling, Grief/Mourning, not for jc fans, Swordfighting, Resentment, LSZ centric, No JC & WWX Reconciliation)

also some of the chapters from Short Prompts by Vrishchika

peacemaker no more by thelastdboy (G, 6k, JYL & WWX, JC & JYL, JC & JYL & JFM & WWX & YZY, JC & WWX & JYL, JYL & Wen Remnants, JYL & WQ, WangXian, JYL & JZX, Modern, Jiang Family Dynamics, unspecified chronic illness, POV JYL, The Eldest Daughter Experience™, Homophobia, to be specific, JC's Canon Homophobia, Not JC Friendly, Wen Remnants Live, chosen family, No JC & WWX Reconciliation, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression)

~*~

16. hi im looking for fanfics in which wwx attends jl’s birthday ceremony (lmao i forgot how it was called but i hope everybody knows what i mean by it) with a-yuan. thanks!!

The Core Issue by Hauntcats (T, 21k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence)

💖 A Crying Shame by thunderwear (G, 16k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, A-yuan to the rescue, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Domestic Fluff, Love Confessions, First Kiss, LWJ joins WWX at burial mounds, LWJ is soft pass it on, literally all fluff, Marriage Proposal, Oblivious WWX)

Taking Responsibility by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 6k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Getting Together, Trope Subversion/Inversion, Pretend mpreg, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Fluff and Crack) I don't think it's overtly stated that the beginning of Taking Responsibility takes place during Jin Ling's celebration but it seems like it.

~*~

17. I’m in the mood for any fics with Lan Wangji and Jiang Yanli having a strong friendship or bond. Thank you!

picking up the pieces by KouriArashi (M, 111k, JYL & LWJ, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Alternate Canon, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Regret, Family, Kid Fic, Families of Choice, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, canon typical political bullshit, Eventual Happy Ending)

💖 love on 35mm by fakeplasticlily (M, 26k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Swimming, film student LWJ, Pining, Mutual Pining, swimmer WWX, best friends LWJ and JYL, the inherent mortification of being in love with your best friend’s brother, or your older sibling’s best friend)

🔒 forever can never be long enough for me by isshun (T, 12k, WangXian, Modern, Established Relationship, Food as a Metaphor for Love, winter solstice festival, [bangs pots and pans] hello welcome to the loving wei wuxian support group, featuring co-presidents JYL and LWJ getting along and bonding over their love for WWX, JYL and LWJ getting along is my soul and jam, hurt/comfort)

My best friend's brother by mollymijh (E, 16k, WangXian, Mentions of XuanLi, mentions of xiyao, Modern AU, College/University, POV LWJ, Romance, Mutual Pining, Childhood Friends, Protective JYL, JYL and LWJ are best friends, Oblivious LWJ, Guilt, Mentions of drugging, Attempted Sexual Assault, Top LWH/Bottom WWX, Explicit Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, First Time, Dry Humping, Anal Sex, Unprotected Sex)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[rumbelleshowdown]

⭐️⭐️

Author: DancingFey

Group B: dark and stormy night; purple flowers; hurt/comfort

⭐️⭐️

You Haunt My Dreams (You Saved My Soul)

A/N: content warning for implied/referenced suicide and torture

At first, he thought he was in the Dark Castle’s dungeon. The room had no windows, and the only light came from a furnace whose flames burned a sickly yellow. Familiar implements of torture were spread throughout. A basket of pokers sat between the furnace and a table of flaying knives, pliers, rattan canes, tawses, and other implements of pain that were too blurry for him to see clearly. Floggers, ranging from a single tail to a cat o’ nine, were mounted on the wall. 

But then, he noticed the birch rod, the hoods, the glass bottles filled with shimmering water, and a cleric shouting from a tome at a person bound in manacles and suspended from the ceiling.

“Cleanse the darkness that hath taken root in this poor soul! Repent for the deeds acted upon thee and forsake the devil that thou once served!” 

A piercing wail echoed through the chamber as another cleric materialized out of thin air and struck the hanging figure, a woman with tangled, greasy hair as dark as the finest ale and sea-foam eyes filled with tears—someone he would recognize even in his dreams. 

“B-Belle?”  

“Begone, foul creature! Thou shalt not claim our Lord’s kin. Fear not, tarnished one, for we will purify thy soul and rid thee of the Dark One’s influence.”

“Belle!” 

He summoned his magic to turn her tormentors to dust—no snails or roses, not for their ilk—but his magic did not respond. He tried again with a stronger spell, but once more, nothing happened.  

The man behind her raised his arm to strike again. Unable to use his magic, he lunged at her tormentor and collided with an invisible wall. 

He frantically searched the room for ruins, magical objects, squid ink—anything that could be used to trap him—but found nothing. 

With no other option, he slammed against the barrier. It didn’t break, but a flash of light caught his eye. He glanced up and saw the flames from the furnace reflected above. 

Was he being held back by glass? 

Suddenly, he saw himself from a distance as if he had cast a Seeing Eye spell, despite the absence of any animals to serve as a medium. 

A twisted version of himself was trapped inside a dressing mirror. 

His yellow-green scales were as large as armor plates. His sharp nails curved like the claws of an apex predator. He had more teeth than a human, each fang sharp enough to rend flesh and crush bones. His eyes were dark pits devoid of light, reflecting his soul.

Was that monster him? No. No, something was wrong. He had changed. He wasn’t that beast anymore!

“What’s going—”

Like smeared paint on a canvas, the world shifted. 

He was standing on a balcony atop a tower. 

How did he know it was a tower? 

His beautiful Belle—his brave maid, his True Love, his wife—stood on the ledge. 

Since when was Belle his wife? 

Her tattered crimson chemise fluttered in the night breeze. 

He was sure she didn’t own any red underthings. He spotted ruby droplets dripping from her gown, vanishing over the edge, and realized what was wrong. 

“It’s blood. You're covered in—"

“I’m sorry.” Impossibly, her tear-stained eyes cut into him, even though he stood behind her and she gazed outward toward the horizon. “I can’t take t-this anymore. Y-You were right, Rumple,” she sobbed. “You are a monster.”

She jumped off the ledge, and he wailed. He couldn’t reach her. He was still trapped—always trapped, trapped in poverty, trapped in marriage, trapped in war, trapped in his own skin.

As she fell, Belle’s voice grew louder until the tower began to crumble. 

 “You killed me. You killed me! You killed me!! You killed—”

“Rumple! Rumple! Wake up!” 

He bolted upright, his eyes snapping open, a scream caught in his throat as he struggled to breathe between rapid gasps for air. The covers on the bed flew across the room, slamming against the far wall. 

It wasn’t only the bed sheets; the bedside lamp, the wall decorations, their clothes, and even the bathroom nightlight swirled around the bedroom like a tornado. 

“Rumple—Rumplestiltskin! We’re in Storybrooke. We’re safe!”

Startled, he turned toward her voice. Belle was sitting in front of him, dressed in her favorite nightgown, the one he had hand-embroidered with purple flowers because being a spinner was still a core part of him, and the poor man inside wanted to provide pretty things for his wife to enjoy. 

“Take deep breaths with me, in and out. There you go. Can you tell me three things you can see?”

“Y-Your eyes, the f-flowers on your n-nightgown, t-the shut door.”

“Good, now can you tell me three things you can hear?”

He closed his eyes, “W-Wind, r-rain, thunder.” 

“You’re doing great. Last one, can you move or touch three things for me?”

He patted the bed. “The mattress.” He twirled a loose thread around his fingers, a familiar nervous habit even after centuries. “My nightshirt.” Finally, he wiped the tears off his face. “My tears.” 

His gasps for breath gradually ceased, and once the panic subsided, all the objects swirling around the room dropped to the ground. 

“There’s my husband.” 

“B-Belle, there was a tower and clerics. They were—” He couldn’t say it. “You were hurt, and then you,” his voice trembled, “f-fell.” 

She was tortured because of her association with the Dark One. No one believed she was merely his maid. Everyone assumed the Dark One had ravished the Beauty. She was hurt because of him. She had jumped because of him. She had died because of him. 

“Stop that.” She slapped his cheeks. “Regina lied. She may have kept me locked in a tower, but there were no clerics. I was not tortured, not—not with pain—isolation, maybe, by this realm’s standards, but not what you’re imagining. You had a nightmare. Sweetheart, it wasn’t real.” 

Belle leaned forward and kissed him tenderly. His fear faded as he knew she was safe in his arms, and he would burn the world down to keep her that way.

A crack of thunder startled them apart. With a frown, Belle looked at the rain hitting the window. “I was going to suggest a walk to clear your head, but it’s a bit too much like one of those ‘dark and stormy nights’ from Henry’s books for a midnight stroll. How about I make us some tea instead?”

“That sounds lovely. Just—” He looked away, whispering, “Leave the door open so I can hear you, please.” 

He didn’t need to see her face to know she was smiling as he revealed another weakness—no, not a weakness. During his and Belle’s last appointment with Dr. Hopper, Archie explained that expressing his needs to his partner was not a weakness, and with open communication, expecting them to be fulfilled was not unreasonable. Everything Milah taught him about marriage was wrong, and they were working to undo the damage—Archie called it trauma—that his early life had caused. 

Belle left the door open as she went downstairs. With a minor enhancement spell, he could hear her in the kitchen. He closed his eyes and listened to the familiar, calming sounds of Belle making tea. 

He opened his eyes just before Belle returned with a tea tray in her arms. She served him tea in the chipped cup. It was his most treasured possession, along with Bae’s baby blanket. 

They drank in companionable silence, the chamomile tea soothing his frazzled nerves. He spoke, intending to compliment the tea, but instead, what slipped out was a question that had haunted his dreams ever since Regina told him that Belle threw herself off a tower. 

“How can you love a monster like me?”

Belle set her tea down and straightened her back—she had a spine of fucking steel—like she always did when she was determined to make him listen. 

“I will say this every day for the rest of our lives if you need me to. You are not a monster, Rumplestiltskin. A monster would not feel remorse for their actions or fear their monstrosity. You have always been a man who makes bad choices. But, Rumple, making mistakes is part of life. Everyone, hero or villain, has regrets. I know the Dark Curse’s effect on your mind is lessened here, but even if we were still in the Enchanted Forest, I would help you fight it. I love you, and True Love, Rumple, doesn’t mean everything’s perfect. It means that we support each other through the good and the bad. If we work together, we can achieve our happy ending. After all, love is the most powerful magic of all.”

His lip wobbled as he placed the chipped cup on the bedside table before collapsing into his wife’s arms. She held him as he wept for the beast he once was and for the man he aspired to be, the better man he believed he could become, with her support, with her love.

He could do anything with Belle by his side. 

[chuuyrrkissrr]

I was taught to heal, yet thrown into war—so I will mend you with hands that still bleed. | reader-insert (22,579 words) by chuuyrrkisser

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Ayatsuji Yukito (Bungou Stray Dogs) & Reader, Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs)/Reader, Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs)/Reader Characters: Ayatsuji Yukito (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs) Additional Tags: I wrote this because I feel bad for what I'm about to write in my other fics..., shojo coded reader, somewhat shojo coded fic, I know it sounds horrible from the first chapter but trust it's not, Dazai-Typical Suicide Mentions (Bungou Stray Dogs), Isekai and Transmigration, Reader-Insert

content warning… sexual exploitation [implied/referenced], non-consensual touching, prostitution, trauma & abuse, gore…

You dip the ragged cloth into the cold bucket of water again, watch it soak, then pull it out, dripping. The water runs through your fingers, tinged a dull gray. You press it to the floorboards and begin to scrub—again. And again. And again.

It doesn’t help.

The filth isn’t just in the wood. It’s in the walls. The air. The sound.

Down the hallway, the groans begin again—low, muffled at first, then louder. Guttural. Laughter. Moans. You don’t want to hear it, but there’s no escape from it. No walls thick enough to block it out, no hallway far enough to drown it.

You clench your jaw and keep scrubbing, though every swipe of the rag only spreads the filth in your mind. The hallway reeks of old perfume and something bitter underneath. The floorboards feel sticky even after you’ve gone over them twice.

You know why she placed you here.

The owner hadn’t hidden her intent—she wanted you to break. She placed you in the heart of it, the long hall that stretches past the rooms where those awful sounds echo. You can still feel the smug smile she gave you before ordering you to clean it thoroughly. 

You press the cloth harder into the floor. Your arms ache. Your knees burn against the wood.

It’s been three days.

Three days of washing sheets that come back stained and reeking. Of scrubbing basins, emptying slop, bowing to women who sometimes look at you with pity and sometimes not at all. Serving tea with shaking hands, pretending not to see what happens after.

You haven’t slept much. You haven’t spoken unless spoken to.

But you haven’t changed your mind.

Not yet.

Not ever.

Some of the women here—strangers who should’ve had every reason to look past you—didn’t.

They weren’t kind in the way stories describe kindness. No gentle lullabies or comforting embraces. But they noticed when your hands trembled too hard to hold the serving tray. They noticed when your lips looked too pale. They noticed when you hadn’t eaten, again.

And so, they made sure you did.

A rice ball quietly placed beside your bucket in the morning. A piece of sweet potato pressed into your palm after the sun fell. Not a word said, not a demand for thanks. Just small offerings passed between long silences and exhausted glances.

You were grateful.

They had been here long enough to build walls—walls thick enough to survive what they heard, what they endured. You watched how they moved—heads held high, faces painted with precision, backs straight even under weight you couldn't begin to imagine. They were used to this life in a way that terrified you.

But even with their strength, they never let you slip too far.

Still… eating was hard.

You tried, for their sake. You tried to swallow mouthfuls of rice that turned to paste in your throat, tried to chew while the sounds behind the paper doors crept under your skin. But most times, you couldn’t. Most times, the nausea twisted your stomach tighter than hunger ever could.

Sometimes, you just sat there—food in front of you, hands in your lap, jaw locked shut.

Even the scent of perfume that clung to your sleeves made your stomach turn.

Today was just another day. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You couldn’t tell anymore. Time moved strangely in this place—slow and heavy, like syrup left out in the cold. The routine dulled everything: wake, clean, serve, scrub, avoid the wrong looks, flinch at the wrong sounds. You didn’t know if you were hopeful or if your mind had just gone quiet out of necessity.

Most days, you didn’t even leave the building. The rare times you did, it was to hang soaked linens in the tiny courtyard out back. That courtyard—if you could call it that—was barely the size of a room. Fenced in by walls on three sides, open to the sky but choked by hanging laundry and the thick scent of damp fabric.

Even then, you were always watched.

Still, you made use of it.

You forced your eyes up and out. Over rooftops. Along the narrow corridors connecting building to building. You studied the alleyways lined with paper lanterns, the bridges of cracked wood between houses, the twisting paths that led into other brothels and tea houses, all wrapped in a haze of smoke and color.

From above, it might look beautiful.

From where you stood, it felt like a maze meant to keep you in.

The Red Light District had no end that you could see. Just bends that led into more corners, more doorways, more painted faces. You didn’t know how many brothels there were—ten, twenty, more? It felt like they folded into each other, the boundaries blurring until even the walls seemed to lean too close, pressing the air from your lungs.

Claustrophobic.

But you still looked. Every single time. Memorized every crack in the walls, every bend in the alleys, every crooked tile.

You told yourself it was for when you needed to run. Not if . When. 

But even if you made it past the maze, past the guards, past the owner’s knowing eyes… what then?

The district was fenced by a forest you couldn’t name and roads that vanished into nothing. You hadn’t seen a single landmark—no town, no sign, not even a trader’s cart to hint at what lay beyond.

Just trees.

Tall, dark, endless trees.

And yet… you kept watching.

Because hope, even when it’s quiet and tired and maybe dying, still watches for an opening.

A tap on your shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts so suddenly your breath catches.

You turn quickly, heart already thudding from the jolt, and find one of the women standing behind you. She’s older than most—sharp eyes, lined face, a silk ribbon tied around her wrist instead of her hair. You’d seen her around before, quiet but purposeful.

“She’s calling for you,” the woman says simply, voice low. “Go upstairs..”

You blink, the words slow to settle. Your hand tightens around the handle of the water bucket as you gesture toward the floor, toward the still-damp rag and grime you’d been scrubbing at for the past hour.

“I was told to—”

“Leave it,” she interrupts gently. “She said now.”

The woman’s tone isn’t cruel, but there’s a trace of something resigned in her eyes. Something that makes your stomach twist tighter than it already was.

You hesitate. Then set the bucket down with a quiet clink. Your knees ache as you rise, legs stiff, fingers wrinkled from the water. You wipe them half-heartedly on your clothes as you turn toward the stairs.

The old hag never calls without reason.

And that reason is never good.

You knock once, knuckles tapping against the thin wood.

For a moment, there's only silence. Then, her voice—faint, smooth, but loud enough to carry through.

“Come in, little dove.”

You push the door open slowly. The room is quiet. Still.

The owner sits alone at a low table, her fingers curled delicately around a porcelain teacup. Steam rises from it in lazy spirals, the scent of roasted leaves thick in the air. Her eyes lift to meet yours, sharp and far too amused.

You step inside without speaking, closing the door behind you. The silence feels heavier than usual.

She sets the cup down with a soft clink.

“My, my… Still standing.” Her smile cuts slowly across her face. “You look… almost appetizing, for someone who’s barely functioning like a normal person.”

You flinch. She notices, of course. That’s the point.

“But,” she continues, eyes raking over you as if appraising meat at market, “not quite as radiant as you did when you first came crashing into my parlor. It’s such a shame what grime and sleepless nights do to the skin.”

She lifts her cup again, takes a slow sip. Her pause is deliberate.

“You’re being given… an opportunity.”

Your stomach knots.

“A wealthy gentleman visited today,” she says lightly, swirling her tea. “Old money. Proper silk robes, lacquered carriage wheels, the sort who knows what he wants and doesn’t like to ask twice.”

You stay still.

She leans forward just a little, eyes glinting. “He asked for someone young. Untouched. Foreign.” A beat. “Delicate, of course. A pet to display. A treasure to handle—gently, at first.”

She never says it outright. She never has to.

Her smile widens, too warm for the cold she carries. “Naturally, I thought of you.”

You swallow down the rising bile and say, quietly, “No… thank you.”

The words barely come out. They’re not brave, not defiant—just soft, almost trembling. But they are clear.

The old woman doesn’t frown. She doesn’t scold. She only smiles, as if you’ve just said something silly and childish.

“It’s all right to be nervous,” she says, gently placing her teacup down with a click. “They often are.”

She stands up slowly, smoothing the wrinkles from her robes with deliberate grace.

“Come here, dear.”

You don’t move at first. The instinct to bolt flickers under your skin—but your legs feel like stone. Still, your feet start to move, as if pulled by invisible strings. You step forward, one reluctant step at a time, until you’re standing before her. The floor feels cold beneath your soles.

Her hands reach out, fingers cool and dry against your skin. She pinches your cheeks—not cruelly, but firmly enough to make you feel small. Her long nails press lightly into the softness of your face as she hums in thought, tilting your head side to side like she’s inspecting a piece of fruit.

“So sweet,” she murmurs. “Still soft in all the right places.”

Your breath hitches as she lets go of your cheek and taps your chin.

“Open your mouth, little dove.”

You hesitate. Your lips part slightly, but it’s not enough.

Her expression flattens.

Then, without warning, her thumb forces its way between your teeth.

The intrusion is rough, and her nail scrapes against your tongue and the roof of your mouth. You gag, choking on the pressure and sudden taste of iron where her ring grazes the inside of your lip. Your body reacts before you can think—you shove back, stumbling as the floor rushes up beneath you.

You land hard, coughing, spitting, trying to breathe.

But she follows.

Kneeling beside you, one hand seizing your jaw again. Her fingers dig into your cheeks, forcing your face up as her other hand trails down your neck—fingertips pressing, feeling, assessing.

“Stop—stop,” you manage, voice cracking around the soreness in your throat.

She only hums again. A soft sound. A lie wrapped in sugar.

“There, there,” she coos. “Don’t fuss. I just need to make sure you’re in working order.”

Her smile never fades. Not even when her eyes go dead.

Her fingers begin to drift—sliding down from your throat to the dip of your collarbones, slow and testing, as if mapping out territory she already thinks she owns.

Then her hand moves lower.

That’s when it snaps.

You shove her with all the force your trembling arms can manage. The push lands sharp, sending her back just enough to break contact—but not far. Not enough.

Her expression changes.

The smile vanishes.

And in its place, something cold and angry settles into her face. Her hand lashes out, seizing your arm, and the other grips your hair, twisting hard enough to make your scalp scream.

You cry out, clawing at her wrist, trying to tear free.

"Ungrateful little wretch," she hisses, the sweetness in her tone gone, shredded by venom. "You think you get to choose?”

Your scream rips from your throat, raw and full of terror. You twist, kick, drag your nails across her arm—anything to push her away. You don’t care if it hurts her. You want it to hurt. You want her off you.

But her grip tightens. Iron fingers, cruel and bruising.

Your voice rises in sheer panic, the room spinning as you thrash beneath her weight.

And then—just as suddenly—

The weight on your chest disappears.

For a moment, your body remains frozen—fingers still gripping her wrist, nails digging into her skin—but then, it’s gone. The crushing pressure lifts, leaving you gasping for air, your pulse thundering in your ears.

You blink rapidly, trying to clear your vision through the tears that blurred your sight. You look up, chest heaving with the weight of fear and confusion.

The room is empty.

The old woman is gone.

There’s no sound—no movement. The teacup she had been holding is still on the table, unmoved, as though everything had paused. You don’t understand what just happened. Where did she go? Why is she gone?

A cold, awful shiver runs down your spine, but you don’t have time to process it.

Suddenly, the air shifts.

Without warning, something heavy splashes onto your face. At first, it’s so sudden, so forceful, you think it’s water. A torrent pouring over you, soaking into your hair, dripping onto your clothes. You can feel the coldness seeping in, drenching your skin.

You push your hair away from your face, too shocked to even flinch.

Your fingers go to your eyes, wiping at the wetness. But when you bring your hand back—

It’s not water.

It’s blood.

A sick, coppery scent fills the room as you rub at your eyes, the red liquid spreading across your hands. Your stomach lurches, but you can’t make yourself move. You can’t pull your eyes away from the sight.

You’re drenched.

Covered in blood.

And it’s still dripping.

The world tilts beneath you as you stare at your hands, feeling the weight of it, the confusion mixing with growing panic.

Where did it come from?

You can’t breathe. You can’t think.

It wasn’t just on you. The blood was everywhere—on the floor, the walls, as though the room itself had bled.

The tatami mat beneath you is beginning to stain.

You sit frozen, unable to move, trapped in a whirlpool of confusion and terror. The blood drips steadily from your hair, from your body, pooling at your feet in an almost unnatural stillness. Your mind is numb, the weight of it suffocating, as you try to make sense of what’s happening.

Then, the door slams open with a force that snaps you out of your stupor.

A woman rushes in, her footsteps hurried, but when she sees you, her words die in her throat. She freezes in the doorway, eyes wide with shock as her gaze locks onto you.

Her breath catches as her eyes flick from your blood-soaked form to the walls, to the floor, to the air as if she can’t decide where to focus. The blood is everywhere. The whole room feels wrong—like something impossible has happened.

“Wh-What...?” she breathes, stepping back slightly, her face pale.

You don’t know what to say. You don’t even know how to explain yourself, or what’s even happening.

You open your mouth, but all that comes out is a strangled, desperate gasp.

The woman’s expression hardens, quickly slipping into something controlled, but the tremor in her voice betrays her as she finally manages to speak. “What happened? How… how are you…?"

You can’t answer. You don’t have words. The blood is too much. It’s suffocating you.

She steps forward slowly, but her eyes don’t leave your figure. “Stay where you are. Don’t move. I’ll—”

She stops herself, as though realizing how futile it is to try to offer comfort when she doesn’t even understand what’s going on. But even then, she can’t help but inch closer, torn between fear and something else—something protective.

“Stay... still,” she repeats, more firmly now. She sounds like she’s trying to calm herself as much as you.

The woman’s steps echo louder than they should, each one a reminder of the reality that’s closing in on you. You feel her presence, hear her voice trying to steady you, but none of it means anything right now. Right now, nothing can comfort you. The blood on your skin, the suffocating weight of it all—none of it can be made right by the hands of another.

Before she can reach you, before she can say another word, your instincts take over.

You push past her, shoving your shoulder into her frame. The sharpness of her gasp cuts through the thick air, but you don’t wait. You don’t look back. You just run.

You dart through the narrow hallways of the brothel, your breath ragged, skin still slick with blood. The walls feel like they’re closing in on you, but you can’t stop. Not now.

The sound of moans and muffled laughter from the rooms on either side mix with the shuffle of footsteps and the clinking of coins. You pass rooms where people— those people —are intertwined in public indecency, their bodies on display for anyone who dares to look. The sounds grate on your nerves, the cries of pleasure mingling with the dread building in your chest.

But you don’t slow down. You won’t.

You burst through the back door and spill out into the colorful street beyond.

The maze of brothels and vendors stretches before you, a sprawling, chaotic mess of neon lights and raucous sounds. The streets are packed with people—customers, onlookers, sellers—all blending together in a blur of movement. The air smells of incense and cheap perfumes, mixed with the unmistakable stench of sweat and alcohol.

The main road splits in multiple directions, the pathways leading god knows where. Each corner, each turn feels like an escape. And you choose the first one you see.

Your legs burn with each frantic step, the cobblestones beneath your feet uneven, threatening to trip you up at any moment. But you don’t stop. You push through, faster, faster.

Your mind races—Where am I going? How far can I run?

But you don’t care.

You just need to get away.

The road stretches out before you, splitting again and again, and you follow it without hesitation, without any thought of where it leads. Every breath feels like it’s suffocating you more. Your heart is pounding so hard you think it might burst out of your chest.

The world around you is an endless blur of lights, shapes, and faces—each one a reminder of how far you are from anything familiar.

Just keep running. 

The ground beneath you shifts with each frantic step, your feet pounding against the cracked concrete, the sound swallowed by the stillness of the night. The chaos of the brothel, the neon lights, the noise—it all feels distant now, swallowed by the weight of the forest that surrounds you.

You don’t know where you’re going.

You don’t care.

The roads stretch out in front of you, endless and barren, no street lamps, no traffic lights—just endless stretches of gray, lifeless concrete. The air is heavy and damp, thick with the earthy scent of the forest pressing in from all sides, but the trees offer no solace. The only sound is your ragged breathing and the hurried beat of your heart, slamming against your ribcage as though it might break free.

Each corner you round only leads to more emptiness—more dark stretches of road. The farther you go, the darker it gets. The oppressive silence presses down on you, the weight of your own footsteps starting to feel like a punishment. The blood on your skin grows colder with every second, the sticky feeling like a constant reminder of what you’ve just escaped. It feels like you’re running through a nightmare, where the road itself keeps shifting, as if mocking your desperation.

The trees, tall and twisted, loom on either side of the road, their branches stretching up to the sky like gnarled fingers. Their shadows stretch across the path, dark and consuming, blurring the already faint distinction between what’s real and what’s not. The road, at times, feels like it’s alive, curling and twisting into paths that lead nowhere, only to force you to choose again, running without knowing where you’ll end up.

You push yourself harder, not daring to slow, even as your body screams for rest. You can barely see through the blur of sweat and blood on your face, but you don’t dare stop. Not yet.

You trip once, stumbling over a crack in the road, but you don’t pause. The ground feels uneven beneath you, unpredictable, as though it’s conspiring to keep you trapped. You catch yourself, hands scraping against the concrete as you propel yourself forward again, fear burning in your veins.

The cold of the night air bites at your exposed skin, but it’s nothing compared to the chill gnawing at your bones. There’s no warmth here, no sense of security—just the raw, empty stretch of the road ahead.

You hear nothing but the rustling of leaves far off in the distance. The soft hiss of the wind doesn’t comfort you, only reminds you of the vast emptiness that surrounds you. The forest feels alive, but not in a way that offers any hope. Every sound you hear, every shadow you see, feels like it’s waiting to swallow you whole.

But you can’t stop. You can’t afford to.

Your mind races with thoughts you can’t catch, too scrambled, too panicked. All you know is the urgency that pulses through your veins—the overwhelming need to get away . It doesn’t matter if you’re running blind into the night, doesn’t matter that you can barely see or breathe. You just have to run.

The road ahead doesn’t change. It’s still the same, stretching out into the darkness like a promise of more fear, more uncertainty.

With a sharp gasp, your foot catches on uneven ground, and your body crashes down onto the cold concrete. The impact knocks the wind out of you, your palms scraping hard against the road, your knees stinging from the fall. You try to get up— you have to get up —but your lungs are too tight, your chest heaving like it might split open. Every breath is fire, every heartbeat a war drum in your ears.

You lie there, trembling, the sky above you a black void with no stars to anchor you, the forest around you a silent audience to your unraveling. Your thoughts blur together in a haze of panic and exhaustion. You don’t know where you are. You don’t know what to do.

And then—light.

Blinding and sudden.

A harsh pair of headlights cuts through the darkness, and you’re frozen in their path, caught like a deer, eyes wide and glassy. The low rumble of an engine reaches your ears a second later, and a car rounds the corner, its tires screeching as it jolts to a sudden, violent stop just a few feet away from you.

The horn blares for a moment—short, sharp, annoyed.

Then the door opens.

A man climbs out, voice raised and cutting through the still air. “Hey! What the hell are you doing in the middle of the—?!”

He doesn’t finish.

He sees you.

Really sees you.

The blood. The torn clothes. The sheer, feral terror in your eyes. You don’t move, don’t speak—just stare up at him like prey, too numb to plead or explain.

His expression changes in an instant—confusion morphing into alarm. He stops dead in his tracks, hands raising instinctively as if distance alone could protect him.

“Jesus Christ…”

He mutters the words like a curse, stumbling a step backward. His gaze darts up and down your body, trying to make sense of the horror in front of him, then flicks back to the safety of his vehicle.

You manage a noise—barely more than a dry gasp—but he’s already shaking his head, backing away, muttering, “Nope. No. I’m not doing this. Hell no.”

He retreats to the car, eyes wide, slams the door shut, and starts the engine with a jerk.

The car's engine growls to life, the driver muttering panicked curses under his breath, eager to get as far away from you as possible. The tires crunch over gravel, the headlights beginning to shift—then stop.

The back door opens with a soft click .

A man steps out, calm in contrast to the scene he’s walked into. He doesn’t move with alarm, only a quiet kind of calculation, as though he'd already anticipated something strange and merely found it.

He’s tall, with short, tousled blond hair, a flat cap casting a faint shadow over his face. His gold eyes—partially hidden behind pale, half-rimmed glasses—fix on you. He’s dressed in layers: a dark gray vest beneath a jacket of yellow ochre and red, his gloved hands tucked casually in his pockets. There’s nothing overtly threatening in his posture, nothing overtly warm either.

You stare.

He stares.

Neither of you says a word.

The night air thickens between you, your chest still rising and falling in shallow gasps. Your eyes, wide and numb, drink in the sight of him, but it’s like your brain can’t keep up, can’t categorize him.

You don’t know who he is.

You don’t know what he wants.

But unlike the driver, he doesn't look away. He doesn't flinch at the blood, the mess, the wreck of what you've become. He merely observes, steady and still—like he’s seen worse.

Then, with no urgency, no fear, he takes a step forward.

Not asking if you’re alright.

Not demanding an explanation.

Just… watching.

As if trying to determine what, exactly, you are.

And whether you’re something he’s meant to deal with—or something that will deal with him.

[permian-tropos]

Chapter 11—The World Is Beautiful Indeed

by excalibutt, PermianExtinction

Chapters: 11/? Fandom: Мор. Утопия | Pathologic Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Artemiy Burakh | Artemy Burakh/Daniel Dankovskiy | Daniil Dankovsky, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Artemiy Burakh | Artemy Burakh, Daniel Dankovskiy | Daniil Dankovsky, Town-on-Gorkhon Ensemble, Medrel (Nerve Layer), Zürkh (Blood Layer), Yas (Bone Layer), Mishka | Murky (Pathologic), Spichka | Sticky (Pathologic), The Kin (Pathologic), Shrew (Pathologic), Ospina | Aspity (Pathologic), Suok (Pathologic), Klara | Clara (Pathologic) Additional Tags: Nocturnal Ending (Pathologic), Post-Canon, Mind-Altering Steppe Magic, Angst with a Happy Ending, But Expect Ever-Increasing Weirdness, Survival, Transhumanism, Pestilent Utopias, Yes We're Calling the Layers Characters, It's Going to be That Kind of Story, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ancient Godlike Beings, Transmasculine Nonbinary Character(s), Nocturnal Ending with a twist, Body Horror, Character Death, Existentialism, Marble Nest (Pathologic) Spoilers, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Racism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, struggles with cultural identity, Mixed Media, Trans Daniel Dankovskiy | Daniil Dankovsky, Vaginal Sex, Anal Fingering

Summary:

“Will you go with us? The path ahead of us is long and hard.”

Artemy strained to move his jaw against the crushing, loving embrace of the living Town. I cherish everything alive. Are they not breathing? Are they not human? Are they not also creatures of the earth? He managed to pry open his mouth, and could hear Lines snapping.

“Yes,” he forced out. “Yes, of course I will.”

—

When sixteen souls are exiled from the new world of miracles, the Haruspex chases after them, determined against all odds to keep them alive and deliver them to a world where they belong.

—

[03/08/25] PATCH NOTES: Version 2.0 — Content Rating updated to Explicit

[10/01/22] PATCH NOTES: Version 1.2 — Art incorporated. [10/01/22] PATCH NOTES: Version 1.2 — Ledger discovered. [01/24/22] PATCH NOTES: Version 1.1 — Mind maps revealed.